


We Are Broken

by impravidus, StarryKitty013



Series: and they were roommates [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Banter, Blood and Torture, Coping, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Past Torture, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Acting as Harley Keener's Parental Figure, Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23359603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impravidus/pseuds/impravidus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryKitty013/pseuds/StarryKitty013
Summary: Ripped apart, piece by piece, stripped of his confidence and pride like crusted paint chipping off the walls of his facade.~Fourth book of the "and they were roommates" series~
Relationships: Harley Keener & Harley Keener's Sister & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Pepper Potts, Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: and they were roommates [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1414066
Comments: 168
Kudos: 354





	1. (draw a little heart, draw a little arrow, draw a little blood) V-V-V-Valentine’s Day

Apparently the suits were only to get them out of the water. Tony had a private jet stationed at the nearest island and they would be having a venture home in the comfort of soft cushions and sparkling water.

Harley was… he was calm. In fact, he was too calm. It was startling how calm he was. It was shock. It had to be shock, right? Because there’s no way that he could be this calm if it wasn’t shock.

There was no shower in the private jet, so Harley wiped his body gently with wipes before changing into fresh underwear and a pair of sweatpants and hoodie, the first time he hand changed clothes in the time he was gone.

Tony advised Peter to cater to whatever Harley needed, even if it meant avoiding any mention of the last months. So he talked about nothing with him. He talked about how Australia is on fire and the Kobe Bryant helicopter crash and World War III. He talked about the upcoming election and how Abby auditioned for her school’s spring production of Annie and the Superbowl halftime performance and the new Instagram filters and so much flowery fluff that it was killing him. But Harley listened intently, eager to learn what he missed, disregarding the reason of why he was missing in the first place.

They scrolled through Tumblr, catching him up with the recent memes and skimmed through the Grammy and Oscar winners. They talked about the start of the new semester and how Abby is adjusting to her new school and the rollercoaster project in physics but there was one question screaming at the forefront of Peter’s mind.  _ What happened? _

Despite Harley’s persistence to avoid the topic, Peter could already pick up little things that were different. 

Harley was thin. He was scarily thin, and even though he comfortably sipped on his sparkling water, he didn’t dare eat. Peter struggled to stomach the sight of anything other than Harley’s eyes. His neck had a haunting raw ring around it and his joints poked out unnaturally as if they had been dislocated and never realigned. Whenever he shifted, he winced in pain, and he constantly leaned on Peter for physical contact but if Peter initiated the touch, he flinched and gasped.

Peter also noticed the panic. He hadn’t noticed it right away, but it was the unlabored breathing and the white knuckled grip on the arm rest that had sparked realization. He didn’t know why, but Harley panicked when Peter spoke softly. It was a gentle tone that he had reserved for Harley, one that would usually bring him peace. But now, this special way that Peter spoke to him was troubling him, so he stopped.

It was a conscious shift, changing the way he talked. He projected slightly, adding weight to his tone. He adjusted the cadence and timbre of his voice, putting on his Spider-Man voice rather than his Peter one. And for some reason, it made Harley feel safe, and if it made him feel safe, he would do it.

For the fifteen hour flight, Harley didn’t sleep. He watched  _ The Good Place _ and caught up on  _ Unus Annus _ videos and listened to  _ The TryPod.  _ He scrolled through social media and read news articles and drank sparkling water and did everything in his power to not have to think.

When they got back, Tony insisted that they go to the Compound and visit a medic, but Harley waved his hand dismissively and said “what’s the rush?” to which Tony said “your dislocated ligaments.”

So Harley trudged into the examining room with Tony, Peter following close behind.

The doctor introduced herself as Helen Cho and had asked him politely to take off his shirt so she could get a better understanding of his situation.

Peter felt bile fill his throat. Lacerations, gashes, cuts, burns, brands — they were littering Harley’s once smooth skin. Peter felt the words “I’m going on patrol” leave his lips before he stepped out of the window and swung away.

He wouldn’t remember, but he hurt a lot of criminals that night.

At the Compound, Harley was put under a minor anesthetic while Dr. Cho dealt with all of his dislocation, cleaned out his wounds, and treated his broken ribs. Tony sat anxiously outside of the operating room, leg bouncing in anxiety. 

Helen exited the room. “Stark?”

“Cho. How is he?”

“It doesn’t look good. He seems to have pneumonia and pleurisy, an inflammation of the lung lining most likely from…”

“Waterboarding. I know. It happened to me when I…” he trailed off.

“Several of his wounds are infected, there is severe internal bleeding, and his muscles have irregular spasming. I could assume the ladder is from some sort of electrocution.”

Tony covered his mouth, holding back a gasp. 

“He is covered in extensive scar tissue and has several bones that have not properly healed that we had to realign. The mark on his neck can only be what I can think to be from collar choking which most likely will affect the way he eats, speaks, swallows, or even breathes. That’s in addition to his current lung damage.”

“Oh God.”

“We have him hooked up to an IV, but he will need a lot of bed rest. The pleurisy will most likely resolve itself in two weeks. The ribs have been healing correctly, thank goodness, so that’ll be just a couple more weeks. The external wounds will take a week or so and the internal bleeding is still up in the air until we investigate further. As for his mental stability…” She faltered. “He is going to need a lot of support. Whatever happened there has left an enormous impact on his body. I can’t imagine the impact it has made on his mind.”

“I… thank you. Can I see him now?”

She nodded silently. 

Tony pulled a chair next to Harley’s bed, taking in the sight before him. “I’m sorry, Harley. I’m sorry.”

.-~*~-.

Peter didn’t go to school the next day. Instead, he held Harley’s hand all night, sitting upright as he dozed in the chair from exhaustion. When he groggily blinked awake, his eyes locked with Harley’s, who had a lovesick smile on his lips.

“Good morning, darlin’.”

He held back tears. “Hi, Harley,” he said softly.

To his panic, Harley began to hyperventilate, his heart rate spiking, hands shaking. “Please. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I didn’t… I didn’t...”

“No, no. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Helen ran into the room. “Please leave.”

“But I—”

“ _ Please leave! _ ”

Peter scampered out of the room, flustered and concerned.  _ What did he say? _

The doctor exited the room after a few grueling minutes, Peter listening through the door. Regrounding Harley. Reminding him where he was. Harley coming back and acting as though he hadn’t just broken down. Helen coming to the door. 

“Peter, may we talk?”

He nodded, gulping nervously. 

“Can you recount to me what happened before Harley…” she waved her hand.

“All I said was hello.”

“Was that  _ all  _ you said?” she asked.

He thought. “I said ‘hi, Harley.’” 

“And how did you say it?”

He cursed under his breath. “I said it softly, which I know triggers him.”

“So, something about the combination of the tone you used and the words you said are a major trigger for Harley.”

“It’s his name!” Peter exclaimed, distressed.

“And for some reason that we cannot ask, it is a trigger. So, you’re going to have to omit that word from your vocabulary from now on.”

“I…”

“He’s asking for you. You should go in.” And with that, she walked away.

Peter hesitantly pushed open the door. “Hey uh hey, babe.”

Harley scrunched his nose. “Babe?”

“Just thought since you call me darlin’, I should have a nickname for you.”

“I don’t think I’m much of the ‘babe’ type,” Harley replied.

“Then I’ll think of something else,” he said with a forced chuckle.

“I missed you,” Harley said quietly.

“I missed you too,” Peter responded, careful to keep his volume up.

“It’s time to eat,” Harley stated.

“You’re hungry?”

“No, I just, I usually eat around now. So it’s time to eat.”

Peter frowned. “You can eat whenever you want, H… Honey Bunches of Oats.”

“Not your best.”

“I know.”

He sat up, clenching his teeth in pain. “I don’t think I’ve eaten in a while. I don’t know how much I can stomach.”

“Let’s get you something light, then. Okay? How does some fruit sound?”

He smiled. “Fruit sounds really nice.” He held his hand up. “Just not…”

“I know what you’re allergic to H… Huggy Bear.” He cringed. “I’ll get you some orange and melon.”

“Thank you.” 

Peter turned around before leaving. “Do you need anything else?”

He looked down. “Some socks would be nice.”

“I’ll get those for you.”

Peter opened the door and then… he opened the door again? Except he was on the opposite side? And he was holding fruit and socks. 

_Dissociated again._ _Great._

Peter knocked lightly on the door with a plastered smile. “Hey, H… hot lips, I got your stuff.”

“Hot lips. That might be a keeper.”

“Oh shut up.”

He reached his arms out, wiggling his fingers. “Fruuuiiitt.”

Peter laughed, his first genuine laugh in a while. “Here you go, dork.”

Harley savored the juicy sweetness of the cantaloupe and orange slices. “I forgot how good real food tasted. This is probably the best orange I’ve ever had.”

It wasn’t a good orange. February is not orange season, and that orange that Peter grabbed wasn’t fully ripe. But Harley was enamoured by the tart punch that it had and the way his weak jaw could easily chew threw the soft fruit. 

“I grabbed some fuzzy socks for you. Hope that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” He set his fruit on the bedside table and grabbed the socks, happily pulling them over his feet. 

Peter froze as he caught sight of the bottom of his feet, charred, burnt, and cracked.  _ What happened to… _

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

Peter looked up. “Hm?”

“FRIDAY told me it’s Friday.” He snorted. “FRIDAY Friday.” He took another bite of cantaloupe. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“I wanted to be here when you woke up. And I… it’s been a long couple of days. I need a day off.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Harley said softly.

“Yeah. It is.”

“We should do something,” Harley stated.

“What do you want to do?” Peter asked.

“I don’t even know what couples do on Valentine’s Day. Get dressed up? Have a fancy dinner? Watch a movie? Eat cheesecake?”

“How about all of those things? Except, maybe not get dressed up. I’d much rather eat a fancy dinner in my pajamas.”

Harley grinned. “I like the sound of that.”

Peter stared at Harley, admiring his beauty. It had been so long that he had almost forgotten what it was like to… for him to be… and now he was there, real life, breathing and well. Well, not well. But he was there, and Peter had a looming fear hanging over his head that Harley was going to disappear again if he left for too long. 

“H… Honey? Can I lay with you?”

“Yeah, you can. Be careful, though. I think I have some broken ribs and a messed up lung.”

Peter didn’t laugh. Instead, he climbed onto the bed, situating himself beneath Harley so he could make himself comfortable. Harley shifted uncomfortably until he relaxed, his head resting on Peter’s chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. Peter placed a hand lightly over Harley’s chest, feeling the pulse below his super-feeling fingers. 

“I love you,” Peter said, not too quiet, but tenderly.

“I love you too.”   


.-~*~-.

Peter returned with a Costco bag with Alaskan king crab legs, pasta, and alfredo sauce. Dr. Cho allowed Harley to leave his room in a wheelchair, and thank goodness she did, because Peter was absolutely lost in the kitchen. They laughed as Peter stumbled around the stove, Harley shouting panicked “that’s hot”s to Peter when he went to reach for the ban marie with bare hands. 

And they had a lovely meal. They talked about nothing for a while, reminiscing, avoiding, the new dance that they had become experts at. Peter hissed in frustration as he struggled to open his crab legs, giving up and using his superstrength to rip the pieces in half. Harley rambled about the shows he had watched on the plane ride from the night before as his taste buds were overwhelmed with flavor. It was a facade of normality to cover up the underlying unsettling uncertainty that the two were feeling. It was a facade to protect them from how they really felt because once they did, there was no coming back.


	2. A New Hope (something to convince me to renew hope)

“When can I see Abby?”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. Abby!”

Tony looked up from his phone. “Abby’s fine.”

“No, she’s not! She had a sleepover at Emma Lee’s and I left without even—”

“Happy got her. She’s staying in your room here,” Tony interrupted. “She’s fine.”

“Oh. I… thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“So I can see her soon?” Harley asked.

“Of course you can. We’re going to have to be here with her just in case something she says is potentially triggering…”

“I understand. I want you to be here, anyways.”

“I’ll go get her,” Tony said before exiting.

“How are you feeling today?” Peter asked, careful not to speak too softly.

“Sore. But I’m used to being sore.”

Peter frowned. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

“At least it’s not the usual type of sore. Usually I…” he stopped. “Well I actually don’t really remember what. I remember what it felt like though. It was more a sharp, burning sore than a dull, numb sore.”

“You don’t remember?” Peter questioned.

“Yeah. I don’t know, I don’t remember much these last couple weeks. I know that I was gone, and that I was, well, you know, but I… I just remember being in my room and writing. I don’t really remember anything else. Usually when the door would open, I would blackout.”

“You would blackout?”

“Well, I don’t know. It was like I would just lose a chunk of time. Like the door would open and then all of a sudden I’m sitting on my bed, but I’m hurt. But it’s probably for the best right? Whatever happened must be something I don’t want to remember if I’m not remembering it.”

“Yeah… right.”

There was a soft knock at the door before the bursting open, Abby running to Harley and giving him a tight hug, sending shooting pain up his sides.

“Abby! Abby, be gentle. He’s hurt.”

She pulled away. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, munchkin. It’s really nice to see you,” Harley said.

“I missed you so much,” Abby said, big tears pooling in her eyes.

“C’mere,” he pulled her in for a more delicate hug. She turned around and looked at Peter who watched from the corner of the room with a pang in his heart.  _ Right snap, right snap, left snap, left snap. (Are you okay?) Cross double snap, cross double snap, double snap, double snap. (Do you want a hug?) _

_ Right snap. Left snap. (Yes. No.) _

She motioned for him to join them.

He shook his head. 

_ Clap, clapclap, clap. (You have to do this.) _

He sighed but smiled and sat at the edge of Harley’s bed.

“Uh, what was that?” Harley asked.

“Abby and I made a secret language in case one of us wasn’t in the mood to talk or we were in a situation where we can’t talk.”

Harley nodded even though he didn’t really understand. “Right.”

Peter looked at Abby’s arm and gasped overdramatically. “Is that a  _ tattoo _ ?! Nine years old and you’re already becoming a rebelling teen?! What’s next? Partying? Stealing a motorcycle and eloping in New Jersey with your pen pal lover?”

Abby rolled her eyes. “Emma Lee had  _ temporary  _ My Little Pony tattoos. We all did them.”

“Those are four words I don’t wanna hear out of your mouth again. ‘We all did them.’ That’s just another way of saying you caved into the peer pressure!”

She giggled. “Whatever.”

Harley just watched, slightly stunned. The last time he had seen the two together, they were cordial and could joke around, but not like this. Could seven weeks… could his absence really…

“How was Emma Lee’s birthday? Don’t tell me there was underaged drinking.”

“If you count the juice pouches, maybe. It was fun though! Her dad got one of those blow up slides and we all got to go down it! And she got cake I could eat which never happened at the birthday parties I went to in Rose Hill or Boston.  _ And _ she really liked the Pura Vida bracelet I got her.”

“You mean that  _ I  _ got her, and  _ you _ gave her.”

“Yeah yeah.” She scrunched her nose as she thought. “Oh! And there was mac and cheese and I  _ love _ mac and cheese, and it was the good kind.”

“The kind in the shapes?” Peter asked, knowing she’d say…

“Of course the kind in the shapes! And we watched Toy Story 4 and then we had cake which I already told you about but it wasn’t just any cake, it was oreo ice cream cake!”

“That’s some top tier cake.”

“Right?! Oreo  _ and _ ice cream cake?! It doesn’t get better than that!”

He chuckled softly. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

She turned to Harley, almost forgetting he was there. “You’d really like Emma Lee.”

He smiled, trying to cover up how lost he felt. “I’m excited to meet her.”

“We’ve got so much to catch up on, like all my new friends at my new school and my awesome teachers and the school musical and…”

“Abby, maybe wait for that later? I think he needs a moment.”  _ Clap, clapclap, clap.  _

She nodded in understanding. “Okay.” 

“Your hair’s grown so much,” Harley said quietly.

“Yeah, it’s getting long enough that I actually am starting to look like a real girl. Maybe when it gets long enough I can dy…”

“No,” Peter interjected.

“Okay, so I can’t dye it, but it’ll be long enough for the clip in colored streaks?” She turned to Peter with big “please please please I want it really bad” eyes.

“Okay, fine. Those are okay.”

Harley didn’t know how to feel about this new way of things. Peter was something new to Abby. He was her guardian, not Harley. She turned to him for permission and she went to him to talk about things only he knew about and she talked with him in a secret language only he knew, and Harley was suddenly feeling like an outsider intruding on something he shouldn’t be interrupting.

“What color do you think I should get, Harley?”

Harley’s body went rigid, his breaths shallow and rapid.

“Abby, how about you step out for a little?” Peter said, not keeping his eyes off of Harley.

“But…”

_ CLAP, CLAPCLAP, CLAP. _

Knowing this was serious, she scurried out of the room. 

“Hey. Hey hey hey, you’re okay. You’re in the medbay. It’s February 15, 2020, and you’re sitting on a hospital bed and you’re safe. I’m here. Put your head on my chest and listen to my heartbeat. Just count the beats as they pulse.”

Harley stiffly turned to place his head on his chest, slowly relaxing as he heard the calming  _ thump, thump, thump. _

Peter placed his hand above his head. “May I?”

Harley weakly nodded.

Peter gently ran his fingers through his greasy hair, massaging his scalp. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you. It’s all gonna be okay.” When he knew he was lucid enough to understand him, Peter blew air out of his nose as he snorted. “You know, I was looking up some more nicknames and I think I found some that you’ll like.”

“Oh? Do I get to hear one?”

“You gotta earn it,” Peter teased.

“And how do I do that?” Harley asked turning up to face Peter, his nose touching his. He licked his lips, mouthing “can I?” 

Peter nodded, heart pounding against his chest.

Harley leaned in slowly, lips pressed delicately against Peter’s. He let the moment linger before hesitantly moving his lips, shifting to sit up. 

Peter placed a hand on Harley’s sharp cheek, rubbing a thumb on his skin as he deepened the kiss, tentatively nipping at Harley’s bottom lip. Harley groaned an…

“In the medbay? Really?”

Peter nearly fell off the bed, gripping to the rail, eyes wide as he stared at Tony.

“Do you really have to be horny teens in my Compound? Because I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t.” 

“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, embarrassed.

“You really kick out the little girl so you could have your steamy make-out sesh in private?” Tony asked.

“Actually he…” Peter started.

“I had another…” Harley shook his hand and made an uncomfortable face. “You know.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” Harley replied. There was an uncomfortable pause. “We didn’t plan to… it was really spontaneous.”

“Gross.”

“No, I just mean, we didn’t think we were going to...”

“I don’t need to know this.”

“Okay. Right.” Harley gave an awkward thumbs up. “Uh, not that I don’t always love your presence but uh, why did you come in?”

Tony fiddled with his tie. “Cho has reviewed the tests for your internal bleeding. There’s none in your brain, but there is in your chest, arms, and torso.”

Harley sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh.”

“You’re gonna have to go in for surgery.”

“Oh.”

Peter took his hand and squeezed it lightly.

“When will I…”

“As soon as you can, if that’s okay.”

He nodded and looked to Peter. “Guess I should go do that.”

Peter smiled softly. “When you come out, I’ve got something for you.”

Harley wiggled his eyebrows. “Ooh.”

“Nothing like that.” He went to nudge his arm playfully, but he retracted his hand. “Have a good surgery, Schnoodle-Dumplin.”

“Is that the nickname I had to work so hard for?”

“Oh, you loved working for it.”

Tony cleared his throat loudly. 

“I’ll see you later,” Peter said sweetly but loudly. He exited the hospital room where Abby sat on a chair, swinging her legs and staring at her feet. “Hey sugarbug.”

_ Cross double snap, cross double snap, double snap, double snap. _

He raised an eyebrow.  _ Cross double snap, cross double snap, double snap, double snap. _

Her lip quivered as she nodded.  _ Right snap.  _

He kneeled down to her level and pulled her into a hug, petting her hair gently.

“I-I ca-an’t believ-ve he’s back,” she sobbed.

“I know. He’s back. It’s okay.”

“I did-did-didn’t think he was gonna come back,” she wailed, her tears soaking his shirt.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s alright.”

“I, I tried to do what you said. To act normal. To not freak him out. But I, but I can’t be normal because he was  _ gone  _ for so long and I…”

“I know. I know. Remember what I told you? You gotta breathe when you feel this way. You gotta make sure that you’re getting air.”

She took in some shaky gasps of air.

“Just slow it down for a sec, okay? Just focus on the in and out. Focus on calming yourself down. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed or sad or mad or whatever else you’re feeling, but you gotta make sure you’re breathing.”

She nodded, hiccuping in slower breaths. “I love you, Petey.”

“I love you too.” He pushed her hair from her face. “Now, I want to get an extra special surprise for Harley, and I need your help. Do you think you can help me with it?”

She nodded again. “I can do that. I want to give him an extra special surprise.”

“Well it’s gonna be an awesome surprise. We gotta go back to the apartment to get it.”

“Okay. Is he gonna be okay here on his own?”

Peter bit his tongue. “He’s having another surgery. He probably won’t be awake when we come back, but when he does wake up, we’ll have something awesome for him.”

She smiled. “Okay.”

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to chat, our Tumblrs are [official-impravidus](official-impravidus.tumblr.com) and [StarryKitty013](starrykitty013.tumblr.com)
> 
> If you want to join a Parkner Discord, click [here!](https://discord.gg/vztSVpg)


	3. All That Matters Now (is where i go from here)

When Harley blinked awake once more, Peter was asleep sitting up in the chair, Abby resting with her head in his lap. “Peter?”

Peter jolted awake. “Good morning, Angel. Or, more like evening.”

“Am I fixed?” Harley asked groggily.

“Depends. Are you actually lucid or are you still high on anesthetics?” 

He cleared his throat. “I think I’m lucid.”

“To put it simply, they patched up the holes that were causing the internal bleeding. You’re gonna need some more time to recover, but hopefully, the biggest problem should be some mild discomfort from your other injuries.”

“Oh. Good.” He stretched out as best he could. “Am I allowed to eat?”

“You probably have to wait until Dr. Cho clears you, but I grabbed you a water.”

“That’d be nice,” Harley said.

Peter handed him the bottle, opening it for him. “Here ya go.”

“How long was I out?” 

“A while. You’ve kinda been in and out. Usually too loopy to understand a word of what I was saying. You did say some questionable things in front of your little sister that are probably going to scar her innocent mind for life.”

Harley covered his face with his palms. “Oh gosh. What did I say?”

“Just talking about how you want to ‘choke on me like a…’”

“And I get the picture. Thank you for that.” 

Peter laughed at the embarrassed teen. “It wasn’t all bad.”

“Oh I’d hope it couldn’t get worse than that.”

“You wanted me to call Ned so he could vouch for you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Vouch for what?”

“That you were capable of mind reading. You said that you knew that I was thinking about mint chocolate chip ice cream just by the way my pupils were dilated.”

“Well, were you?” he asked.

“I don’t eat mint! Why would I be thinking of mint chocolate chip ice cream?”

They both burst into giggles. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He paused. “Did you...”

“No. I didn’t call Ned. Didn’t want the first time he saw you to be when you—”

“Right.” He nodded. “Thanks.”

“No problem. That’s what a good…” he stopped. “What are we?” His eyes widened. “I know this is really not the best time to bring this up. I mean you just got out of surgery and after…”

“No, no. It’s… it’s okay. What do  _ you _ want to be?”

Peter bit his lip. “I think I… whatever you’re comfortable with. All I know is that when you were gone, I couldn’t imagine being without you. All I know is that I love you.”

“Then let’s just be whatever we feel like. Boyfriends, partners, friends with lots of benefits. Let’s just be together and not let anything change that.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Peter said, not being able to hold back his wide grin.

“Took you long enough,” Abby said.

“Back to the land of the living,” Peter joked. “Abby can sleep through anything, I swear. She even slept through the fire alarm.”

“Oh, you sleep through the fire alarm  _ one  _ time—”

“One time makes it a forever problem—”

“ _ You’re _ a forever problem—”

They were cut off by Harley’s laughter. “You two are somethin’ else. It’s uh, it’s nice to see that you two get along.”

“I wouldn’t say  _ get along _ —”

Peter gasped, over-exaggerated. “I think we get along perfectly! We are meant to be in each other’s lives. We are just peas in a pod. Bees in a hive.”

“That’s not a saying,” she pointed out.

“It is now! Because I said it, that makes it a saying.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She looked over at Harley, a lightbulb going off in her mind. “Can we give him his super special surprise?”

Peter looked to Harley. “Are you feeling up to it?”

“Well, I don’t really know what the surprise is,” Harley responded.

“How are you feeling?”

“Bored. Sore. But mostly bored.”

Peter grinned. “Then let’s get the super special surprise.” He and Abby got up. “You have to keep your eyes closed for a while. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“It won’t…”

“No, it won’t," Harley reassured.

Peter nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Harley hummed softly to himself as he listened to the light rustle and bustle of them coming in and out and setting things down on the floor. Finally, Abby poked him on the cheek.

“You can open now!”

His heart felt like it was going to burst from all the love. They had brought the Christmas tree and all of the presents underneath to him.

“You never—”

“No, we didn’t. It didn’t feel right opening them when you weren’t there with us.”

“Thank you, darlin’. Thank you both. So, how about we start opening these presents?”

The three started with their stockings filled with two month old Christmas candy, and other tiny trinkets like lip gloss for Abby (which Harley disgruntledly said she was too young for) and fluffy socks for Peter. Then they moved to presents. 

Abby adored her new clothes, room decor, colored streaks (a new addition that Peter had purchased after she mentioned it), puzzles and books. Peter appreciated the new additions to his nerdy pun shirt collection, new pair of jeans, and wallet (because his was falling apart). Harley felt teary-eyed as he opened the new spatula and spoon set and soft flannels, but his mouth went completely agape when he opened a small envelope. “You got us tickets to see  _ Hamilton _ ?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Technically from Mr. Stark. It was for the three of us to see  _ Hamilton _ .”

His excitement dwindled as he read the date on the tickets. “Oh. January 4.”

“Yeah. I uh, we didn’t end up going. But we can always go another time.”

He shook his head. “No, I mean, these tickets cost a fortune.”

“Which is pocket change to Mr. Stark. Not to like take advantage of his money, but this was his idea of a little gift to you. He wouldn’t mind.”

He pursed his lips. “Okay.”

Peter fiddled with his friendship bracelet. Harley felt a pang in his chest. “I uh, I lost mine when I was gone. I don’t really remember how. She must have cut it off or it must’ve ripped because one day I just didn’t have it anymore.”

Peter looked up confused. “She?”

“Yeah she uh… the…” his heart began to race, the room feeling smaller and smaller. “She uh, she…”

“Abby, go outside.”  _ Clap, clapclap, clap.  _

Harley flinched as the door closed behind Abby. 

“You’re safe. You’re okay,” Peter tried to comfort.

“It’s almost time. It’s almost time. It’s almost time.”

“Time for what? Harley? What’s wrong?”

“Where is it?  _ Where is it?!”  _ he demanded, his voice coarse and harsh.

Peter retracted fearfully. “Where is what?”

Harley stood up, ignoring the shooting pain rushing through his muscles. He searched frantically, ripping the covers off of his bed, throwing the wrapping paper out of his way, looking under and around, until he slipped his hand into his pillow, relaxing as he felt it.

He pulled out a blood splattered, torn and tattered notebook. 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. “What…”

Harley frantically flipped through its pages, eyes darting across them until they steadied, his finger dragging down the page as he read. He sat down on his bed and smiled warmly at the book. “He’s gonna find you. He’s gonna come. He’s gonna find you. He’s gonna…” he continued to mutter under his breath.

Peter didn’t know what to do. Harley was… he was manic. He wasn’t alright. He knew he should get help but he didn’t trust Harley to be alone. As sly as he could, he sent Tony an SOS text and waited and watched.

Harley continued to read, holding his hands together and squeezing them tightly, continuing to mutter his mantra over and over to himself. 

Tony opened the door, and Harley froze like a deer in headlights, staring at the door. His body trembled violently and he shook his head. “Please. Not again. I promise I’ll comply.”]

Tony leaned down to Peter’s ear and whispered, “It’s best if you leave. I’ll stay here with him.”

“Is he okay?” Peter asked.

“I don’t think he is.”

Peter, shell-shocked, exited the room.

And then he was in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling, Abby lying with him. 

“It’s not gonna be like before, is it?” Abby asked.

“No. No, it’s not,” Peter responded.

“Is he gonna be okay?” she asked softly.

“Maybe one day.”

“Maybe?” she repeated.

“We don’t really know right now. A lot of bad stuff happened to Harley while he was gone, and he didn’t just get hurt on the outside. He got hurt in his mind. So, he’s gonna be not okay for a while. We just have to be there to help him get better, and understand that he needs time.”

“It’s already been a long time, though,” she said with a frown.

“For us, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen him, but for him, it’s been a long time in the place that made his mind hurt. So it’s gonna take a long time for him to heal.”

“How long is it gonna take?” Abby asked.

“It could take a very long time,” Peter said honestly.

“I just miss the way it was before.”

Peter sighed. “Me too.”

“How are you feelin’?” 

Peter turned his head to face her. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been really worried about Harley and how he’s feelin’, but how are you feelin’?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Better than when he was gone?”

He shook his head. “I’d say on the scale of before he was gone and while he was gone, I’m in a good middle. It’s just… it’s hard. Maybe one day I can tell you when you’re older, but it’s, well it’s grown up kind of stuff.”

“You’re not a grown up.”

He chuckled. “No. No, I am not. And that’s another reason why this is so hard.”

“Is this what being a grown up is like?”

He shook his head again. “Nope. At least, it shouldn’t.”

“I just want him to be okay.”

“Yeah. Me too.” He sighed.

“I’m glad that he has you. He’s never had someone like you before. You make him better.”

He smiled sadly. “He makes me better too. It wasn’t always like that, but he… he’s good.”

“When I was little, I always tried to be the best little brother I could be. I wanted to be as cool as him because he was always so cool. I just wanted to be just like Harley. And it was, it was nice that he wasn’t like other boys. He didn’t make me play sports with him in the backyard or beat me in video games because he knew he’d win. We couldn’t afford to buy dolls, so he took spare pipes and wooden dowels and shirts that didn’t fit me anymore and he made me dolls. They weren’t pretty but they were… he didn’t care. He didn’t care that I wanted to play with dolls. He would spend hours just playing dolls with me. I don’t know. He’s always been like that I guess. And I just… I’m worried he’s not gonna be like that anymore.”

“He’s always gonna love you, sugarbug. Just like how I’m always gonna love you.”

_ Clap, double snap, clap. (I love you.) _

_ Clap, double snap, clap. Right circle snap. (I love you too.) _

“And that’s all that matters.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to chat, our Tumblrs are [official-impravidus](official-impravidus.tumblr.com) and [StarryKitty013](starrykitty013.tumblr.com)


	4. As Long As He Needs Me

FEBRUARY

17

Harley grinned brightly as Peter entered his room, setting his backpack on the chair with a gentle toss.

“How was your first day back, darlin’?” Harley asked.

He smiled that perfect Peter Parker smile that made his heart melt. “Oh, it was great.”

“Tell me about your day,” Harley said with a lovestruck gaze.

“Well, let’s see. I had a test in BC Calculus, which despite Mr. E’s crappy teaching, I think I nailed. My AP Spanish presentation went really well. Said everything right, so that’s good. Uh, Pickett started the simple harmonic motion and gave us the final deadlines for the roller coaster project. And, uhm, in AP Lit, we started analyzing dystopian texts, so I’ve gotta read _Clockwork Orange_ by the end of next week, but I’ve already read it, so it’ll just be a quick annotation skim.”

Harley nodded. “Sounds like you had a very busy day.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Yup. I did.” He sat at the end of Harley’s bed. “What were you up to all day?”

“Laying. Sitting. Resting. The usual,” he said with a shrug.

“Did you get any sleep?” Peter asked softly.

“I tried to. Tony actually gave me some melatonin to help me fall asleep. I’m still really used to sleeping sporadically throughout the day, so I’m not quite ready to sleep the whole night.”  
Peter placed his hand next to his. “You’ll get there.”

Harley laced his fingers through Peter’s. “I will.”

18

“Hi big bro!” That was one of the nicknames that Abby was testing the waters with to replace Harley. However, it didn’t roll off of her tongue, especially with her Tennessee accent.

“Hey, Abs. How was your day?”

“We started rehearsals for All County Choir and our music is super awesome. We start the program with the Star Spangled Banner which is _so boring_ because we do it at every choir concert, and the alto part is _so boring._ ”

“Mhm.”

“And then we open the concert with The Tailor of Gloucester which is this super upbeat, super fast song that is a total tongue twister. I do the low part which is awesome because the high part is just the beginning part repeated but the low part does something else. The round is super cool too when everyone starts singing.”

“That’s great!”

“Then we do Kusimama which is pretty hard because it’s in a different language but it has drums and body percussion and cool harmonies.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then we do Bring Me Little Water Sylvie which has _even cooler_ body percussion and has the prettiest harmonies.”

“Wow. I can’t wait to hear it.”

“Then we do Hashivenu which is my least favorite because it has really hard words and it goes really low then really high. The round is cool I guess.”

Harley nodded, a grin on his lips.

“And then we finish with Amani which has super cool drums and the lyrics are easy to remember even though they’re in Swahili and even though I don’t have the melody in it. I think we’re gonna learn choreography when we get to the actual event, so that’s pretty cool.”

“That sounds really cool,” Harley said.

“We’re really proud of you, Abby,” Peter said with a soft squeeze to her shoulder. “We know how hard you worked for this.”

“Thanks, Peter.”

19

Peter frowned as he paused his scrolling on a news article. “There’s some crazy flu going around.”

“Yeah, I read about it. Should be nothing. It’s flu season,” Harley replied casually.

“Are you up to date with immunizations? You had a physical planned for the new year that you missed.”

He shrugged. “I dunno. I’m sure I’m fine.”

“I think you should probably get your shots, just in case. Your immune system’s really weak and who knows what this new flu will do to you.”

He set his book down. “Yeah. You’re right. Thank you for always thinkin’ of me, darlin’.” 

20

“I’m bored.”

“You called me to tell me that?” 

Harley rolled his eyes. “You said call if I needed anything.”

Tony sighed. “I meant like medically or comfort wise.”

“Well I’m uncomfortable from how bored I am.”

“You know, you’ve missed a lot of school. You’ve got a lot of work to catch up on. I think it’s time you connect with your teachers and start doing the makeup work.”

Harley’s playful smile dropped. “What?”

“When you were gone, we told them that you were on a Stark Industries excursion where there was no internet connection. However, now the ‘internet has been set up,’ and you can start catching up now.” Harley’s email dinged. “That’s the link to your online schooling account.” He stood up. “You’ve got a lot to do. It _is_ senior year at a STEM school.” He popped his head back in the room as he exited. “Have fun.”

21 

“I’m craving ice cream,” Harley stated.

Peter looked over from his chair. “I could go for some ice cream.”

“What are you thinking?” Harley asked.

“Whatever you want,” Peter responded.

“I could really go for one of those chocolate chip cookie sandwiches.”

Peter stood up. “I can go get us some.”

“Really? That would be amazing.”

“I’ll be back.”

When Peter returned, Harley’s mouth was already watering. “That looks so good.”

Peter chuckled. “Here ya go.”

Harley moaned in delight as he bit into the sugary treat. “Man, I missed ice cream so much. Never thought I’d have it again.”

“It… it’s good.” He gave a toothy smile.

“There’s a lot of stuff I didn’t even realize I missed until I got it again. Like, music? Gosh, I really take music for granted. I only can think of so many songs in my head until I’m just repeating the same songs over and over again. I was unfortunate enough one day to only remember the _High School Musical_ soundtrack one day, and that’s all I listened to in my mind.”

“That sounds hard.”

“It kept me busy,” Harley said with a shrug.

“What else did you do to keep busy?”

“I wrote a lot. Or read what I wrote. I didn’t want to fill the journal up too quick in case it was the only one she’d give me, so I wrote real tiny. Well, as tiny as you can with a ballpoint pen.”

Peter stopped eating his ice cream sandwich. “Do you still write? Does that help you?”

“I mean, I haven’t really thought about writing more. Usually I just… read.”

“What do you read?” 

Harley hesitated. “Well, there’s one page that really helps me. But it’s… that’s not important.”

“It is if it helps you,” Peter said, a curious glint in his eyes.

“I’ve got you to help me.”

Peter, realizing that Harley didn’t want to continue, nodded. “Have you seen the new Try Guys video?”

22

“You’re looking a little stir-crazy, Pumpkin.”

Harley looked up from his laptop. “That obvious, huh?”

“I’m sure you’re pretty sick of sitting in here all day,” Peter said.

“It’s better than…” He cut himself off. “Why do you mention it?”

“I was just thinking, some fresh air could be good for you.”

“You know I’m on bed rest,” Harley said.

“There’s wheelchairs. I’m careful,” Peter responded.

“Where would we even go?” he asked.

“The Compound is basically surrounded by miles of nature. Lots of trails and ponds and lovely fresh air and Vitamin D. _And,_ no crowds.”

Harley thought for a moment. “That _does_ sound nice.”

“It can be really nice.” 

And it was really nice. Harley had forgotten how much he had missed the cool breeze against his face and the clear air entering his nose. Bundled up in a thick jacket, boots, and a loose scarf, Harley closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle sounds of nature. 

He missed the way the sun landed on his face. He hadn’t felt the sun in a very long time. When he was in the room…

Well he doesn’t have to think about that.

“Do you go on walks a lot?” he asked.

“It helps me clear my head. There’s a lot to see. I’ve always lived in the city, so it’s really nice to get out and see big towering trees and smell that dew covered leaf. Sometimes the scent of the city can be overwhelming, but in the forest, it’s just fresh.”

“I don’t smell much,” Harley said.

Peter chuckled, and slowed his pace to a stop. “Take a moment to really feel everything around you. Do you hear the rustle of the leaves? The skittering of the squirrels on the frozen grass? Do you feel the wind blowing against your face, ruffling your hair? And the scent of the bark on the trees, a crisp jolt to your nose as you inhale from the chilly air.”

Harley hummed in delight. “Yeah. I do.”

“Sometimes when you’re so wrapped up in the busy city life, you forget how to appreciate a place like this.”

“Tennessee was a different kind of nature. It was man made. Fields with endless crops, cattle and livestock. It was the scent of antique shops that’dve been there for years. It was quiet, but there was always that little chatter that filled the streets with life.”

“We should go sometime.”

“Yeah. We should.”

23

Harley did not like sneezing.

Sneezing meant the rough, scratchy pain in his throat and the sharp, intense pain in his ribs and dull, burning pain in his chest. Sneezing made his head spin and his temples bubble with pressure. Sneezing shook his aching body and sent an uncomfortable sting through his healing muscles. Harley did not like sneezing, but that seems to be the only thing he could do.

“You should really take a shower,” Peter said. “There must be remnants of the tree pollen on your skin from yesterday.”

“I can’t take a, a,” _sneeze_ , “a shower. I’m on bed rest.”

“Well, you need to at least get the pollen off of you. And the sheets off your bed.” He helped Harley sit up. “Or you’re gonna be sneezing all day.”

“How am I going to take a shower? I can barely stand,” Harley said.

“There are wheelchairs you can take into the shower,” Peter said matter-of-factly.

“There are?” 

Peter nodded. “Mhm. And we’ll get you one.”

“Well, I wish I had known that sooner. I reek. I can’t remember the last time I showered,” Harley joked.

“You don’t… reek.”

“Oh, I do, and you know it,” Harley stated. “There’s only so much the baby wipe showers can do.”

“I’ll make sure to change your sheets while you’re in the shower,” Peter said.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No. I want to. Plus, we gotta clear this room from all of its pollen.”

“Right. Pollen.”

Peter smiled softly. “Let’s get you outta here.”

24

“Hey, Gumdrop,” Peter shook his head. “Nope. Don’t like that one.” He pulled out a bag. “I brought you back a churro from patrol,” Peter said, handing Harley the now room temperature cinnamon sugar treat.

“Thanks.” He savored the taste of the treat as he took a slow bite. “How was patrol?”

“Oh, it was… good. Slow. Nothin’ much happened.”

“Well, that’s good. Slow is good, right?”

Peter smiled as he nodded. “Yeah. Slow is good.”

25

“How was your work session?” Harley asked. “Get any work done on your rollercoaster?”

“My group can be a little hectic, but I got a lot of work done. Would really have preferred to be in a group with you, though.”

“My superior intellect is just so appealing?” Harley asked, flipping his hair.

“Any intellect would be appealing. I still can’t believe how there can be people who have zero work ethic and no understanding of potential and kinetic energy, despite being _seniors_ at a _STEM school.”_

“Sounds frustrating,” Harley said.

Peter took a deep breath. “Yeah, but it’s fine. They just don’t carry their weight. They all rely on me considering I’m the top of our class and they figure that I will just be able to do all the work.”  
“You shouldn’t have to do all the work.”

He shook his head. “It’s better this way. Then I know it’s gonna work.”

Harley poked Peter’s chest. “It _is_ gonna work. Anything you make is gonna be amazing.”

Peter looked bashfully at his feet. “It’s almost as tall as me. I don’t know how I’m gonna get it to school.”

“You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

Peter smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

26

“It was Selena’s birthday today, so she brought cupcakes to class. She has a nut allergy too so I could have them. They were really yummy.”

“What kind were they?” Peter asked.

“Vanilla with chocolate frosting and rainbow sprinkles.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “The good rainbow sprinkles or the bad ones?” 

“The good ones,” Abby said.

“What’s the difference?” Harley questioned, confused.

“There’s three levels to rainbow sprinkle goodness. There’s the bad ones, the little balls. Then there’s the okay but acceptable which are the ones that are the lines. But the _best_ rainbow sprinkles are the little circles,” Abby explained.

“Those ones taste like frosting,” Peter continued.

“You never told me you didn’t like the line ones,” Harley said.

“They’re _acceptable_ , so they’re fine! It’s okay.”

“When did, uh, when did you two figure out this ranking?” Harley asked.

“Me and Peter were making funfetti cupcakes for the quarterly choir get together, and he wanted to be fancy, so we got all three kinds and taste tested which ones were best.”

“And we decided that the lines were best for inside the cake but the circles were best for on top of the frosting,” Peter finished.

“Oh.”

“They weren’t that good, though,” Abby said. “At least, not like the way you make ‘em. They were just the boxed kind.”

“Well, they weren’t bad!” He turned to Harley. “I read an article that if you replace the oil with butter and the water with milk, it really transforms the boxed mix.”

“But they weren’t as good as yours,” Abby repeated. 

“So, you’re really like this new school?” Harley asked.

“Yeah, I like it a lot. I’ve made so many friends and no one is mean to me and they invite me to things and include me and it’s really cool.”

“That’s great, Abby,” Harley said softly.

“Maybe we can make cupcakes when you get better.”

Harley’s smile fell momentarily. “Of course we can.”

Peter turned to Harley, idea sparking. “Do you like ‘Cupcake?’”

Harley shook his head. “Nope. Not at all.”

27

It was late. They didn’t know exactly how late, but the two teens rested on Harley’s bed in comfortable silence, Harley sitting up (doctor’s orders) and petting Peter’s hair as he laid his head on his lap.

“Do you ever think about the future?” Harley asked quietly.

Peter lifted his head and looked up to Harley. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what are you gonna do when you get out of high school?”

Peter pursed his lips. “Back in the fall, I applied to all my dream schools. MIT, Columbia, NYU, the big ones. And I… when you were gone, I heard back from them all.”

Harley straightened his back. “What did they say?”

“Forty-five thousand a year to MIT, fifty thousand a year to Columbia, and a full ride to NYU.”

“That’s amazing!” Harley praised.

“I don’t know if I’m going anymore, though.”

Harley frowned. “Why not?”

“Well, I’ve got Abby now. If she moved into an apartment with me near NYU, she’d have to move schools again, and I wouldn’t be around all the time to take care of her or give her the time she needs. I was thinking of doing a gap year…”

“No. You should go to NYU.”

“I can’t just…”

“You’ve got me,” Harley interrupted. “We’re in this together, right? And, considering everything that has happened, I was planning to take a gap year. Get used to living again. Be there for Abby. Or, at least, do some online college stuff. I don’t think I’m really ready to go out into the world like that.”

“I don’t know if I can handle being away from her for so long. She’s… she was all I had when you were… and I need to be there for her.”

“Queens is an hour subway ride from NYU. You can come see her every weekend if you want,” Harley said.

“I just…” he stopped. “I don’t know if I can leave this yet.”

“You’re not leaving this. Or us. You’re gonna be there. I mean, we live in a technological world. You can call us everyday and we can send you constant text updates with many pictures and you can hack into the cameras at her school to watch her if you really want.”

Peter chuckled. “I’ll think on it, okay?”

“You can’t give up on your life for us. As much as I want to be with you, you need to find your future. You’re destined for great things, and neither of us want to be the ones to hold you back from it.”

Peter laid his head back on Harley’s lap. “You got into MIT too. It came in the mail and I thought it was mine. They were offering you twenty-five thousand a year.”

“Really?” Harley asked.

“Yeah. And I’m pretty sure you got into NYIT. I know you got a full ride at CUNY.”

“Ugh. CUNY. That was my safety school.”

Peter laughed. “It didn’t seem like a good fit for you.”

“It wasn’t. It was just on the Common App, and I had a fee waiver so I was like “fuck it” and applied. I didn’t expect to get a full ride!”

“I hear they’ve got some great online courses.”

“Oh, fuck no.”

28

With Abby snoring lightly with her head rested on his chest, Peter picked her up gently and mouthed a “I’m gonna take her to bed” to Harley.

When he returned, he gave a soft smile, and rubbed his eyes. “How are you feelin’ today?”

“Better than yesterday. Though, I don’t know if that’s because of the pain medication coursing through my veins right now or that wonderful commentary you had on that _My Little Pony_ episode…”

“Rarity was being a bitch!”

He laughed, stopping to wince in pain. “Ugh. Broken ribs are just not my friends.”

“Take it easy,” Peter instructed, hurrying over to the aching teen.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Peter asked with a scrunched brow.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Harley frowned at Peter’s concerned expression. “Stop worrying about me. I’m gonna be okay.”

“I can’t just stop worrying about you.”

“C’mere.” Harley patted the bed.

Peter sighed, trudging over to sit with him.

“I love you. You know that, right?” 

“I love you too. Which is why I can’t just stop worrying about you.”

“Well,” Harley began to run his fingers through Peter’s curls. “Because you love me, you also have to trust me. Trust that I’m gonna get better and you don’t have to worry about me. Because you love me, you have to realize that I love you too, and I’m worrying about you too, and I want you to be living your life.”

Peter turned to face Harley. “Thank you.”

Harley placed his warm palm to Peter’s cheek and leaned in for a tender, soft kiss. “Never forget that. Okay?”

Peter nodded. “Okay.”

29

“The deadline for discounted prom tickets is coming up,” Peter said.

“Oh?” Harley responded, not looking up from his phone.

“Do you want to go?” Peter asked, hope evident in his eyes.

“Of course I want to go,” Harley responded. “I’m gonna be better by then. It’ll… and it’s prom! I mean, how can we not, I mean of course I want to,” he took a breath. “Yeah. I want to go.”

“Great. Then I’ll get us tickets,” Peter said with a soft clap.

“Who says I’m goin’ with you? You haven’t asked me yet.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Do you want an extravagant promposal?”

“Maybe I do.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “ _Or maybe,_ I wanna make one for you.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Peter joked.

“Oh, you better.”

The room settled to a comfortable silence. Peter took a moment to just admire Harley's presence, a constant reminder that he was still there and wasn't going anywhere.

_Things are going to be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my music teacher side really popped off in this chapter. but for real, i had so much fun researching the choir songs for abby and if you've sang any of these songs in choir or have taught them, please let me know.
> 
> if some of these drabbles feel unfinished, it's because they are..............
> 
> If you want to chat, our Tumblrs are [official-impravidus](official-impravidus.tumblr.com) and [StarryKitty013](starrykitty013.tumblr.com)


	5. Life Is Terribly Hard (when your life’s a facade)

MARCH

1

Peter entered the room, pulling his mask off, his eyes swollen and nose red.

“Peter. What’s wrong?” Harley asked.

Peter choked back a sob. “Can I just… I need to be with you. Please. I need to hear your heartbeat up close. I need to know that you’re…”

“C’mere.” Harley scooted over.

Peter laid his head on Harley’s chest, his tears silently soaking his shirt. Harley shushed him softly, running his fingers through his hair.

“I’m here.” When Peter’s hyperventilating calmed down, Harley whispered, “Bad patrol?”

“Just had to make sure you were here,” Peter said.

“I’m here,” he repeated.

“I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t. I’m here.” Harley pressed a gentle kiss on Peter’s curls.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I know you’re…” He paused. “Are you okay?”

“Are _you_ okay?”

“I am now. I… am.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. Really.”

“Okay. If you’re not, you can tell me.”

“I know.”

“I love you,” Harley said, grabbing his hand.

He squeezed his hand back. “I love you too.”

2

“Can I get a haircut?” 

Tony looked up from his laptop, pushing his reading glasses up. “Of course you can.”

“I just… I feel like it’s just a reminder of… and I want to feel normal again.”

“I don’t know if…” Tony cut himself off. “Of course you can. I can get my personal stylist to come in and we’ll get you all gussied up.”

“I also, since it’s so long, I think I’m gonna go for something new.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “New look?”

“I don’t think I’m gonna go as short anymore. Let my hair be a little more natural. Use less… gel.”

“Any reason why?” Tony asked.

“I want my new normal to be a better normal than before. I mean, like, going short and buzzed on the side and neat and kempt on the top, that wasn’t… it looked good. I know it did. But that wasn’t me. It didn’t feel like me. It felt like the guy I was trying to be. And I was starting to grow it out again before I left but I just… didn’t get to it, I guess.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Change will be good.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I need a little change.”

3

“Man, do I hate politics. Just brings out the worst in everyone.”

“What’s up, Buttercup?” Peter asked.

“It’s Super Tuesday today, and my feed has been nothing but politics. I’m really sick of it.”

“This was your first year voting, right?” 

Harley nodded. “Supposed to be. And I can’t even get my input in, though I feel like there’s a lot I’ve missed.”

“Honestly, haven’t really kept up with the news much this year. Too much negativity when…” he stopped. “Well, I just tried to stay optimistic.”

“From what I’ve been reading, there’s nothing optimistic about this election.”

Peter snorted. “Yeah. So I’ve heard.”

“Have you at least registered to vote in the fall? You’re gonna be of age.”

Peter smiled sadly. “Haven’t really gotten to it yet.”

“Right.”

“Let’s talk about anything but politics. Please.”

“Well, I’ve been severely distracted from my calculus homework due to the return of my phone addiction. If you wanna bring your homework in here, we could just work together.”

“Together?” 

Harley shook his head. “Like work at the same time. And if one of us gets distracted, the other can motivate the other to get back to work.”

“I do have to get my essay on dystopian ties to reality.” He smiled. “Let’s do it.”

4

Harley scoffed in disgust at his phone.

“What’s that for?” Tony asked.

“This girl I hooked up with is sliding into my DMs,” Harley said.

“I only understand half of what you just said.”

“She’s trying to flirt with me and wants to get together.”

“Ah,” Tony said with an understanding nod.

“It’s like I can never escape the person I used to be,” Harley said exasperatedly.

“I know what that’s like,” Tony stated.

“How do you get it over it? How do you get over a reputation and become a better person?”

“You don’t.”

Harley raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“When you create a reputation for yourself, it’s hard to live down because that’s all that people see of you. You’re lucky because you’ve got your adult life to rebuild yourself. The only thing you _can_ do is be a better person than you used to be.”

“Do you ever regret it? Leading people on? Wasting precious moments?”

“Every day,” Tony admitted. “But it makes you appreciate the new moments you make even more.”

“I regret it a lot, but something in me… misses it? I just, I miss the feeling of not caring.”

“But you did care,” Tony pointed out. “You were just distracting yourself with frivolous pleasures instead of finding the things that really mean something.”

“Sometimes it was nice to just not feel.”

Tony frowned. “Do you want to drink again?”

“I-I, I don’t _want_ to drink again.”

“But you want to feel the way drinking made you feel.”

Harley hesitated. “Yeah.” He sighed. “It’s just, it’s the release. The momentary escape. Just being able to be free from my mind.”

“Drinking does more bad than good.”

“And I know that. I do. I know that drinking doesn’t solve anything but sometimes I just wish I could just be gone.” He stopped, eyes widening.

“You don’t mean that,” Tony said, voice wavering.

“I just mean, I mean I, I don’t, I just,” Harley stammered.

“Harley. If you’re feeling that way, you’ve gotta tell someone.”

“I will,” Harley said quickly. “Of course I will.”

Tony eyed him suspiciously. “Okay.”

5

Peter quietly entered Harley’s room which was pitch black. Figuring the older teen was sleeping, Peter set his bag down quietly and pulled out his phone, already having finished his homework for the day.

The lights were a shock to his senses, the bright fluorescents nearly blinding. Squinting as his sight readjusted.

His mouth went agape as he took in the sight before him.

Harley, in a three piece suit, stood wobbly next to his bed with a sign that read “Prom?”

“You’re standing!” Peter exclaimed excitedly. “And you’re… you… yes! Of course I will!”

Harley sighed in relief and shakily sat back down on his bed. “Thank goodness. This would be really awkward if you said no.”

6 

“What’s the get-up for?”

Abby twirled. “It’s Country Music Dress-Up Day at my school. It’s for Music In Our Schools month. Every Friday we have a spirit day.”

“We didn’t even have to buy anything for this one,” Peter said.

Abby sported a white lace dress with a brown belt, brown cowboy boots, a jean jacket, and a cowboy hat. “Do you like it?”  
“Yeah. You look great.”

“It was so crazy. Even though everyone dressed up, almost everyone doesn’t actually listen to country music.” She hopped up onto the bed. “Oh! And between classes they played country music on the loudspeakers, but it was obviously just someone’s phone speaker played next to the mic because the quality was really bad, but I really liked listening to it. They played James Taylor and I _love_ James Taylor so that was really awesome.”

“That’s great,” Harley said. 

“Have you caught up on all the new country music that has come out?” Abby asked.

Harley paused. “No. I actually, I don’t think I have.”

“There’s this one called “Slow Dance In A Parking Lot” and it’s really cool. I like it. Oh! And Carrie Underwood came out with a new song and you know how much I love Carrie Underwood. It’s really good too.”

“I’ll have to listen to them,” Harley said.

“Or we could listen together?” Abby proposed.

“No, you don’t have to do that. I’ll just listen on my own.”

“Oh. Okay.” Abby smiled. “I have to go finish my homework.”

Peter looked between Harley and Abby. “She’s been having some trouble with her times tables, so I’m gonna go help her. Will you…”

“I’m fine.”

“Right. Okay.” He headed to the door but stopped. “You sure? Because I can totally…”

“Go. I’m fine.”

“Alright. Okay.”

Harley pulled out his phone, and pulled up Spotify, relaxing as he closed his eyes and reclined in his bed, being carried away by the acoustic guitar.

7

“What pizza are you thinking for tonight, sugarbug?” Peter asked Abby.

“Hm. I’ve got a hankerin’ for Hawaiian.”

“Hawaiian it is,” Peter stated, exiting the room to call the pizzaria.

“Every Saturday, Peter and I order pizza and watch _My Little Pony_ ,” Abby explained to Harley.

“You’ve seen every episode of _My Little Pony_ ,” Harley said.

“But we started from the beginning and now we can pick up all the foreshadowing,” Abby said. “Peter said that it’s fun to rewatch a show because you can pick up on things you didn’t get at first.”

“You and Peter seem really close. I’m glad.”

“Peter is really great. He’s always there for me when I need him, and he knows the best restaurants because he can’t cook the way you can.”

“Well, I’m gonna be able to cook for you soon,” Harley said.

“I miss your cooking.”

“Then, when I’m all better, I’ll make all your favorites. How does that sound?”

Abby smiled. “That sounds great.”

8

“Where do y’all go on Sundays?”

Peter pulled at his sweater sleeve. “We go to church.”

“What?” Harley asked, confused.

“When you, uh, when you were gone, we started to go to church, because Abby wanted to pray for you,” Peter explained.

“Oh that’s, that’s really nice of you.”

“I grew up Jewish so I didn’t really get it at first, but it really helped Abby, so we went every Sunday,” Peter said.

“You’re Jewish? But you celebrated Christmas with me.”

“Jewish people can celebrate Christmas too,” Peter said with a slight edge.

Harley closed his lips into a tight line, realizing what he had said. “Uh, why do you still go?”

“Because God gave me strength while you were gone,” Abby said.

“Oh. Well, I, uhm, can I go with you? To church?” Harley asked.

“Are you sure you’re ready to…”

“During the standing parts, I’ll just stay seated. And I’m sure I can kneel for a minute. I’ve been working with that physical therapist and everything.”

“Okay. We’ll go,” Peter said. “We leave in thirty. Do you need help getting ready?”

“I’ll be fine.” He chuckled softly. “What do I even wear to mass? Haven’t been in months.”

Peter looked at Harley who wore plaid pajama pants and a juice stained t-shirt. “Maybe not that.”

9

“I brought you a little somethin’,” Peter said sweetly.

“Is that…”

“Meat and three? Yes it is.”

Harley smiled. “I haven’t had meat and three in… well I don’t know.”

“I got country ham because that was the easiest to prepare. And then we’ve got some peas, some potatoes, and those flaky biscuits that I like.”

“I like ‘em too,” Harley said.

“Which is definitely why I got them, and definitely not to snack on them while I made the ham.”

“Thank you so much, Peter. This is, this is really amazing.” He took a bite of the biscuit. “Not… horribly burnt.”

“I slave over the stove for hours and _this_ is the thanks I get?”

“Well, you shouldn’t be using the stove when you’re making these.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Is it okay?”

“It’s fantastic. Really.”

“Let’s dig in then, shall we?”

10

Harley walked slowly to the cafeteria after getting a little stir crazy. He was surprised to run into Pepper who was snacking on a caesar salad.

“Hey, hon. What are you doin’ up?” she asked.

“Stretching my legs,” he said simply. 

“You hungry? We’ve got a stocked fridge,” she said.

“I’ll just have some fruit.”

She gave him a weary smile. “Middle shelf.”

He hummed quietly as he rummaged through the boxes, grabbing grapes and pineapple. “What are you doing down here?”

“This compound is quiet. Sometimes I need to just get away from the bustle and chaos of the corporate world and take some time for myself here.”

Harley nodded. “That makes sense.” He popped a piece of pineapple in his mouth. “I kinda miss the bustle and chaos. It gets quiet.”

“I’m sure it does,” Pepper said, looking to him sympathetically.

“I don’t know. It’s just all so different now that I’m back.”

“How so?” she asked.

“Everyone’s just so different. Or maybe that’s how they’ve always been and I just forget. And that’s crazy, right? That I don’t even know. I should know, shouldn’t I?” He shook his head. “I dunno. I just feel like they’re all treatin’ me different.”

“They probably are,” Pepper said.

“Why?” 

“You’ve gone through a very traumatic experience. They probably don’t want to provoke you or upset you.”

“I just want them to act normal. It’ll make me _feel_ normaler.”

“Well, maybe they just don’t remember what normal is.”

Harley paused. “I guess you’re right.”

“If you need someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t have as much bias on the whole situation, I’m here.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Pepper. That means a lot.”

“Would you like some tea?”

11

“So I was thinking, uh, what if we started reintroducing you to some of your triggers.”

Harley looked up from his laptop. “What?”

“I was talking with Mr. Stark who was talking to your therapist…”

“Isn’t that imposing on doctor patient confidentiality?”

“He was just asking what we should do. And she suggested that it’d be healthy to slowly introduce you to your triggers. It’ll help you start moving on, and associating new memories to things that you associate to… to… you know.”

“Well, what are you gonna do?” Harley asked wearily.

“We figured we’d start with one of the smaller triggers. One that you can move towards.” He struggled to find his words. “We were thinking you could try putting your hands above your head again.”

“That doesn’t trigger me,” Harley said flatly.

“It does actually. But that’s one of your triggers that sends you into an involuntary recurrent memory. Usually you blackout when you have those,” Peter explained nervously.

“So I just…” he moved his arms slightly. “Put my arms above my head?”

“Yup.”

He slowly raised his arms up, with no reaction at all. “Are you sure this is a trigger? I’m not feeling… triggered.”

Peter stared at him, mouth agape. “Harley. You… you’ve never done this before.”

Harley looked at him with a scrunched brow. “What?”

“You’ve never been able to do that before.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, right?”

“That’s amazing.” He gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m so proud of you.”

Harley’s face flushed. “Thanks.”

12

When Peter walked into Harley’s room after school, he and Tony were inspecting hologram blueprints.

“Whatcha guys up to?” Peter asked.

“Just looking over some specs,” Harley said.

“I didn’t know you did that,” Peter said.

“Gotta make sure he’s using that big brain of his,” Tony said with a soft tap to Harley’s blonde curls.

“What are you working on?” Peter asked.

“Harley’s prosthesis designs.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know about your prosthesis project.”

“It’s a work in progress,” Harley said with a shrug.

“Well, I’ll, I’ll leave you guys to it. I’ll be in my room.”

“Cool. See ya,” Harley replied, engulfed in his equations.

Peter gave a thumbs up and headed out.

13

Peter smiled proudly as he scrolled through the photos he had taken that morning. 

“Yeah, it was Rock Star Hair Day so me and Abby spent like a half an hour spiking up her hair with colored hair spray. She had to lay down on a cardboard box and we laid her hair so it’d be sticking straight up, and I just sprayed like layers upon layers of purple and blue and pink.”

“That’s great,” Harley said.

“Yeah, it was. She would’ve come to show you in person, but Caroline Miller invited her to go see some new kids' movie in theatres.”

“I understand.”

“You’re coming back to the apartment soon. You won’t have to miss all these moments anymore.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” 

“She loves you,” Peter said.

“I know,” he replied. “I love her too.”

14

Harley awoke peacefully and slowly, eyes crusty from his slumber. He looked to Peter who sat on his phone in his usual seat.

“Good morning,” Harley greeted.

“Morning,” Peter responded with a tired smile.

“Rough patrol?” Harley asked.

“Hm?” Peter replied, not understanding at first.

“You’ve got a nasty shiner.”

Peter lightly placed his fingers over his eye. “Yeah. Rough patrol.” He set his phone down. “How’d you sleep?”

“Out like a light. Slept longer than I have in months.”

“That’s good,” Peter said.

“And you?” Harley asked.

“Yeah. Good.”

There was a lull in the conversation.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?”

15

“Ugh, I am _so_ ready to get out of here and go to school.”

Peter turned to face Harley. “You really feel ready?” 

“Extremely. I’ve been wanting to get back for weeks. I just want normal again.”

“It’s not gonna be like it was before. You know that, right?” Peter asked.

“I know. But I’m gonna try to make it better.” He smiled. “I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> foreshadowing..........
> 
> If you want to chat, our Tumblrs are [official-impravidus](official-impravidus.tumblr.com) and [StarryKitty013](starrykitty013.tumblr.com)


	6. Everyday A Little Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Semi-Graphic Depictions of Violence, Reference to Choking, Whipping, Waterboarding, Sleep Deprivation, and other forms of Torture, Suicide Ideation, and Referenced/Implied Suicide Attempt
> 
> Please please PLEASE skip this chapter if it will trigger you. It is not necessary for the plot of this story.

The notebook had a hard leather cover with two thin strings of leather to close it. It was filled with messy cursive written in dark blue pen. It was soaked in sweat, tears, and blood. But, it was all that he had. All that he has. 

_ Peter, _

_ I know you and Tony are looking for me, so I’m not going to give up. I’m not going to give in to what she’s demanding. I’ll stay strong for you because I know you would do the same for me. _

_ I’m waiting for you. _

_ I love you. _

_ I don’t know what to do. I’m in so much pain. I think she broke my ribs. I had to give in and tell her about the new clean energy program. I’m sorry I’m so weak.  _

_ Do you remember when I blew up that beaker when we were trying to synthesize a non-corrosive wound closing web combination in the office? That’s what it felt like today when they laid my body in broken glass. I couldn’t stop laughing because I was thinking about that beaker. She didn’t like that. I think she took one of the glass shards and did some major damage, because now my arms are wrapped in gauze and they sting when I move them. _

_ I think there’s water in my lungs. I was underwater for too long. No one should be underwater that long. Every time I breathe, I feel like I’m breathing in the water. I told her more today. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. _

_ She keeps asking me things I don’t know the answer to and I don’t think I’ll ever know the answers but she keeps asking me these questions I don’t know the answer to and I don’t think I’ll ever know the answer _

_ My back stings. I don’t know what she did, but I can’t lay on my back, but when I lay on my stomach, I can’t breathe. I’ve been sitting up for hours. I’m so tired. I just want to sleep. Please let me sleep. _

_ When I was little, I had this Halloween costume. It was a jester costume. I hated that costume because the neckline was too tight and it made me feel like I was choking.  _

_ Well, now I know what it really feels like to choke, and it’s not fun. I’d love to wear that jester costume now instead of having to _

_ It’s funny because I hooked up with this girl once who was into choking and she did it to me, but I never liked it. _

_ I still don’t like it. _

_ Everything hurts. I can barely write this message. I love you. _

_ Back in Rose Hill, we had a neighbor who had cattle. He would let us come see his cows and horses and chickens, and over the summer, he gave me a job cleaning the stables and feeding the animals.  _

_ He wasn’t a nice guy. He would whip the animals. I never truly understood the pain that they went through. _

_ I do now. _

_ Iron Man suit designs. SI projects. Blueprints for the next SI innovation. I don’t know why she wants all of this. I can’t give her what she wants because I don’t know. _

_ I don’t know how long it’s been since I last ate. She told me that she wouldn’t bring me food until I talked, but I’m too tired to talk. Or think. Or move. I can’t think of answers when I’m so hungry. I’m so hungry.  _

_ I don’t think I’m gonna move for a while. I used to waste so much energy trying to stay busy but now I… I don’t want to anymore. I think I’m just gonna lay here for a while.  _

_ I made something up. Tony rambles when he works and I’ve picked up on his ideas. I told her everything I could scrap together. _

_ She’s been keeping me awake for what feels like days. Whenever I start to doze off, she sounds the sirens or sends me into the ice baths to shock me awake. I just want to sleep. I’m so tired. _

_ I’ve been thinking a lot. About why it was me. Why she chose me. At first I thought it was because I’m special. Because I know special things.  _

_ Now I know it’s the opposite. _

_ I am nothing. I will always be nothing. She took me because nothing would happen when she did. _

_ I don’t feel pain anymore. Am I finally free? I don’t feel pain anymore. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I don’t feel anything. I can’t feel. _

_ I grew up Catholic. That’s what you do when you grow up in rural Tennessee. I would go to mass every Sunday. We’d hold hands at supper and pray to God and thank him for everything he does for us. _

_ When I found out I was gay, and found out that God hates gays, I didn’t know what to believe. God had been there for me for so long. I didn’t want to believe that God hated me. _

_ Well now I know that he does because if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. _

_ I used to believe in a God, but now I know that if there is a God, he’s a spiteful, vengeful man. If there is a God, I don’t believe in him anymore. _

_ I saw you today. I was sad you had to leave, but it was really nice to hear your voice again. I’m sad that you had to go because I had hoped you would take me with you, but I know I can’t leave here. Not anymore. I love you. _

_ I’m sorry. I know you’re mad and it’s my fault that I’m here, but I miss you so much. Please talk to me. I can’t stand you coming and just staring at me and then leaving. I’ll do anything. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorr _

_ I don’t know why I’m here anymore. She asks me questions I’ve answered before and then she gets mad that I don’t know any more and then she opens the door and we go to _

_ I don’t know what the point is anymore. It’d be really great if you finally took me home, but when you don’t, I won’t be disappointed. I understand. This is where I was meant to be. I’m not supposed to be out there with you. I understand that you’re not coming for me anymore and won’t take me home. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s ok _

_ I stole a piece of glass from the room. I know what I have to do. Maybe then I’ll finally be free. _

_ I couldn’t do it. She has eyes everywhere. When she saw me take it out of my pocket, the door opened again. I won’t be able to be free. I can’t be free. _

_ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. _

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CRISIS HOTLINES
> 
> Text HOME to 741741 for a Crisis Text Line
> 
> Call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) for a Suicide Hotline
> 
> Visit https://www.imalive.org/ for Crisis Chat
> 
> If you want to yell at us, our Tumblrs are [official-impravidus](official-impravidus.tumblr.com) and [StarryKitty013](starrykitty013.tumblr.com)


	7. He Is Broken (but he used to be mine)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is advised that you read Chapter Four (As Long As He Needs Me) before reading this chapter.

FEBRUARY

17

Though Peter was a master at hiding his emotions, he didn’t mask the hidden frustration in the way he tossed his backpack on the chair.

“How was your first day back, darlin’?” Harley asked.

Peter looked up, plastering a bright smile. “Oh, it was great.”

“Tell me about your day.”

Peter froze. In all honesty, he didn’t remember much. He had been so overwhelmed with leaving Harley alone for the first time since he was back, he didn’t focus much. A lot of the time was spent checking his phone or dissociating through entire classes. Harley asked a loaded question because what he probably did today was definitely not what he remembered. He listed out mundane accomplishments, things that were on his to-do list that he hoped the other Peter did when he took over.

Harley, seemingly satisfied with his utter bullshit, nodded. “Sounds like you had a very busy day.”

He forced out a soft chuckle. “Yup. I did.” He sat at the end of Harley’s bed. “What were you up to all day?”

“Laying. Sitting. Resting. The usual,” he said with a shrug.

“Did you get any sleep?” Peter asked, internally praying that he at least got more sleep than the day before.

“I tried to. Tony actually gave me some melatonin to help me fall asleep. I’m still really used to sleeping sporadically throughout the day, so I’m not quite ready to sleep the whole night.”  
Peter’s smile faltered momentarily. “You’ll get there.”

Harley laced his fingers through Peter’s. “I will.”

18

Abby looked at Harley like he was the biggest star in the sky. She admired him with all of her heart. All she wanted was his seal of approval, just a sign that he was proud of her.

But Harley wasn’t fully there.

As Abby excitedly rambled about her music, the underlying message of how she was learning extremely difficult music, she waited for the old Harley. 

Old Harley would praise her endlessly. He would shower her with enthusiastic celebration. Old Harley would give her a hug and tell her he loves her and cook her her favorite dinner.

But Old Harley was gone, and the shell that was left did none of that. He nodded. He grinded out filler responses, things that made it seem like he was listening. His lips barely curled into a smile, his gaze not daring to meet Abby’s. Old Harley was gone, and Abby didn’t like who replaced him.

Peter could feel the tension, knowing how to read Abby, and blurted out words of praise and affirmation. 

“Thanks, Peter,” she said with evident disappointment.

“What are you craving for dinner?” he asked.

“I’m fine with anything,” she said with a dejected shrug.

“How about you think on it, and if you can’t think of anything, we’ll have some chicken tenders.”

“Alright,” she responded, exiting, dejected.

Peter pursed his lips and bit his tongue.  _ Not now. _

19

“I think you should probably get your shots, just in case. Your immune system’s really weak and who knows what this new flu will do to you.” Peter said offhandedly and Harley’s breath sped up a bit, going mostly unnoticed by Peter. 

Shots? Needles and shots and that cold pinprick shocks. He was in his cell again. Tied and gagged and-

He breathed in and out. This was Peter. Peter didn’t want to hurt him. Peter was safe. Peter wasn’t gonna torture him, he wanted to help him. Peter wanted to help him.

_ But so did she _ .

He set his book down a bit too heavily and forced out “Yeah. You’re right. Thank you for always thinkin’ of me, darlin’.” 

The needles dug into his skin, puncturing a gaping hole that left him catatonically gripping his arm until it bruised.

The needles brought him back too long.

He stared at the door.

20

“We just want to do a quick check up. See if there’s any residual pain with the new casts.”

Harley nodded. “Okay.”

“Could you raise your arms above your head for me?” 

Harley nodded again, lifting his arms up, but his body froze, eyes going wide.

“What’s wrong?” Helen asked.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I won’t do it again. Not again. I won’t do it again,” Harley pleaded.

Helen took his arms and pulled them down with an unforgiving click. Harley released his tension, now focused on the pain shooting through his arms.

His face morphed back to a casual smile. “Everything look fine?”

She plastered on a smile. “Yup. I have to go talk to Dr. Stark. I’ll be back.” She took a leisurely walk out of the room, before rushing to the cafeteria where Tony was grabbing a bite.

“Hey, Cho, what’s....” He turned around, a pit growing in his stomach as he saw her face. “What happened?”

“New trigger,” she said simply.

“Oh God. What is it?” Tony asked, setting his bagel down.

“I think it stems from being chained up.”

“That doesn’t explain anything. Just tell me straight,” Tony said impatiently.

“He can’t put his hands above his head. Or raise his arms up.”

“What? But he… that doesn’t make sense.”

“I think he associates it with extended periods of being hung.”

Tony covered his mouth as he held back a gasp. “I know you said... but I didn’t think it…”

“Do you want to go see him?” 

Tony nodded silently and made his way to Harley’s room.

“Oh, hey Tony. What’s up?” Harley asked.

“I’m just checking in. Seeing how you’re doing.”

“Just a little bored. Keeping myself as busy as I can, though,” he said with a shrug, wincing at the strain.

“So, I uhm, I was thinking. Maybe we should get you someone to talk to.”

Harley furrowed his brows. “We’re talking?”

“I mean, professionally.”

He frowned. “Like a shrink?”

“A therapist,” Tony corrected. “I think it’ll be good for you.”

Harley picked at his cuticles. “I mean, I guess so.”

“I’ll set up an appointment with mine. See when she can squeeze you in.”

Harley gave a lopsided grin. “Cool. That’s… that’s great.”

“Great,” Tony gave an awkward thumbs up.

“Great.”

21

“I’m craving ice cream.”

Peter froze. Ice cream. After everything had happened, he couldn’t help but feel a deep hatred for ice cream. He only associated it with… and he couldn’t stand to eat it knowing that it inadvertently caused Harley to… and he knew that that was irrational. That there was so much more that led to him… But it was so much easier to put the blame on something else. So much easier to put the blame on anything but himself. 

He forced a smile. “I could go for some ice cream.”

22

It was peaceful being outside. He missed it. He missed the serenity. He loved the serenity. He loved...

_Crunch._ _Crack._

Harley went tense. All he could see was black. The scarf on his neck was too tight, suffocating him. He couldn’t breathe. When he got a sharp stream of cold crisp air into his nose, it burned, stung his lungs, a heavy pit in his chest.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Peter asked.

Harley scrambled to get the scarf off, but his trembling hands only pulled it tighter.

“Here, let me help you,” Peter said, unwrapping the fabric from around Harley’s neck.

Harley gasped for air, scratching at his neck.

“Breathe. You gotta breathe. Take it slow, okay? Take it easy,” Peter instructed.

Harley shook his head, eyes welling with tears. “Can’t. Can’t breathe.”

“You’re breathing right now. You wouldn’t be talking if you weren’t breathing. Just focus on it. Focus on the in and out. Alright? In… slowly, slowly. In. And out.”

“I can’t do it. I can’t.”

“Yes you can. In… c’mon, in. Mhm. And out.”

In and out. In and out.  _ In and out. _

23

Harley stiffly peeled off his clothes, rolling himself into the shower and flipping on the water, he kept his hand under the water, waiting for it to warm up before rolling in.

His body went rigid as he felt the water cover his face, his body drenched in the water. 

The water was engulfing his body, trapping him into the airless prison. He knew it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as the suffocating cloth or the ice showers that forced him to stay awake for days. But, his quickening heart and his trembling hands knew no difference.

He rolled out of the shower, not bothering to turn it off, and ripped the towel from its hook, taking the hook down with it, covering himself, trying to rid himself of the water. To rid himself of the feeling of drowning.

His body shook, his fingernails cutting into his palms as he clenched his fists. “No more. Not here. Not again. Not here. Not there. No more,” he muttered to himself.

There was a knock on the door. “Everything alright?” Peter asked from the other side of the door.

Harley whimpered out a pathetic sob in response.

“Can I come in? Please? Can I come in.” No response. “I’m coming in. Okay?”

Peter entered, freezing as he caught sight of Harley. “Hey, babydoll. It’s alright. You’re alright.”

“No more. Not again,” Harley said shakily.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to shower. It’s okay.” Peter went to the shower and turned off the running water.

Harley relaxed slightly.

“Yeah. That’s right. It’s okay. You don’t have to go back.”

Harley continued to shake his head back and forth, staring at the floor and gripping arms tightly.

“It’s alright. It’s okay.”

24

“Hey, Gumdrop,” Peter shook his head. “Nope. Don’t like that one.” He pulled out a bag . “I brought you back a churro from patrol,” Peter said, handing Harley the item he acquired an hour ago when he had meant to come back from patrol but couldn’t. He had spent five minutes perched atop his favorite building waiting for something, anything to keep him from going back to him. A scream, a passerby in need of directional help, an explosion,  _ anything _ . 

“Thanks.” Harley had replied. “How was patrol?” He thought about the distraction, the cry for help that he followed without a second of hesitation. About how he jumped in and roughly pushed the men away from the cornered boy, how the boy ran when he told him to call the police...how instead of webbing up the criminals right away he punched them in the face, instead of surprising them by just immediately restraining the men, he got into an unfair fist fight. How he broke one’s nose and dislocated the other’s fingers. By the time the police showed up they were restrained and barely conscious: more bruised than they needed to be which Peter’s split knuckles proved.

“Oh, it was… good. Slow. Nothin’ much happened.” Because the blood had clotted and Peter changed the bandages that would forever be on his palms to hide his uncontrolled anger. Because as long as he was okay, Harley could break down like he needed to. As long as there were no other visible problems, it was okay. 

“Well, that’s good. Slow is good, right?” Just a little longer, stick it out a little longer.

Peter smiled as he nodded. “Yeah. Slow is good.”

Slow is killing him.

25

“How was your work session?” Harley asked. “Get any work done on your rollercoaster?”

Peter held back a groan and scowl as he thought about his day. He had been assigned to the slackers of Midtown who got in through money and connections and not for their intellect who have officially checked out with senioritis. They shoved all the work onto Peter because they knew he would do it but had the audacity to correct him on his designs because they didn't “like it.” 

Carrie Marcelo blasted shitty pop music while he was trying to focus on the construction and gave him a pounding overstimulation headache, not to mention that that was their last work session and he would have to finish it on his own. It had gotten to a point where when they try to add their unnecessary commentary, he snapped, cursing them out and telling them to let him work in peace, storming out of her house with the rollercoaster and the materials.

He gave a soft smile to Harley. “My group can be a little hectic, but I got a lot of work done.”

26

“I’m not going back.”

“It’s going to really help you…”

“I’m not fucking going.”

“Please, if you just listen to me for a…”

“I’m not fucking crazy! I don’t need a goddamn therapist!”

Peter took a hesitant step towards the teen who sat on his bed, staring at the wall, back to him.

“Therapy really helps. I’ve been going for years, and it’s hard at first but talking about everything can really take the weight off your chest.”

“She talks to me like I’m a fucking child! She’s completely patronizing me!”

“She’s just being cautious,” Peter said, cautious himself.

“Why aren’t you taking my side on this?” Harley asked accusatively.

“Because therapy is a good thing!” Peter said, frustrated.

“I don’t want to talk about feelings and all that kumbaya bullshit!”

“That kumbaya bullshit is there to help you recover,” Peter said, not holding back as he raised his voice.

“How? How is making me relive it all supposed to help me get better? I never want to think of it ever again!”

“Because you have to think about before you can let it go.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” His eyes darkened. “You’re just like her. You’re just as cryptic and convoluted as her and her manipulative prying!”

Tears sprung into Peter’s eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

Harley’s whole demeanor shifted. “No… I… I don’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“I’m gonna give you some time, okay?”

“No, don’t go.”

“I’m gonna give you some time,” Peter repeated before he exited, leaving Harley to stand in silence, alone.

27

“I didn’t think I’d have a future for a while.”

Peter frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I was there for so long I just… I figured you had stopped looking. That you weren’t coming. I actually considered it’d be better that my body would give out one day then have to… I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if you’re thinkin’ it,” Peter said firmly. “H… Honey, if you’re feeling this way, you… you’ve gotta say something.”

“It was easier to think about not being there then thinking about getting out of there.”

Peter gulped, his throat suddenly constrained and dry.

“I almost was able to get out, but I… it didn’t work out. But I mean, I’m out now. It’s all good.”

“It’s not all good,” Peter said, voice shaky. “Do you still feel this way? Do you still want to…”

“No! No. Of course not.”

“Please. Be honest.”

Harley’s smile faltered. “Sometimes. Yeah. Sometimes.”

That broke the dam. “You have to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You can’t just hold that in…”

“I don’t want to talk about it! We talked about this, Peter. I… I can’t. I can’t talk about it or think about it or, or… fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said.

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

“Let’s think about something else then, okay?” Peter said, slightly panicking.

“I can’t,” Harley repeated. “Fuck.”

“Stay here. Okay? Don’t go back there. Don’t let your mind go back there. You’re safe. You’re here.”

“I’m safe. I’m here.”

“You know, Abby and her pen pal have gotten to the photo sending phase. She made me spend half an hour taking aesthetically pleasing photos of her and her room to send to her pen pal.”

“Were they good?” Harley asked, trying to steady his breathing.

“Yeah. I think so. I used to be into photography. Ben and I would take photos with his old camera. I… I stopped doing it once he passed. It just reminded me too much of what I lost.”

“I’d love to see some of your photos,” Harley said.

Peter pulled out his phone. “How about I show you some right now?”

28

“I love you. You know that, right?” 

“I love you too. Which is why I can’t just stop worrying about you.”

“Well,” Harley began to run his fingers through Peter’s curls. “Because you love me, you also have to trust me. Trust that I’m gonna get better and you don’t have to worry about me. Because you love me, you have to realize that I love you too, and I’m worrying about you too, and I want you to be living your life.”

Peter forced his gaze to Harley. “Thank you.”

Harley placed his warm palm to Peter’s cheek and leaned in for a tender, soft kiss. “Never forget that. Okay?”

Peter nodded, unsure of the dark growing pit in his stomach, and the burning static on his lips. “Okay.”

29

“But, what if you’re not ready by prom?” Peter asked.

“What do you mean?” Harley turned to face Peter.

“It’s very overwhelming. Loud music, big crowds, strobe lights, amplified chatter. Even I’d be pretty overstimulated.”

“Well, then I won’t go. You can go with Ned and MJ,” Harley said.

“I don’t want to go with someone else. I want to go with you.”

“You’re being very contradicting, Peter,” Harley said, trying to keep a humorous tone to mask his offense.

“We don’t have to go to prom,” Peter stated.

“It’s senior prom,” Harley argued. “It’s… don’t you want to go?”

“Not if you can’t.”

“And who says I can’t?” Harley raised his voice. “No one is saying I can’t go but you, Peter.”

“I don’t want to push you—”

“It’s in two months—”

“And we don’t know what’s gonna happen in two months—”

“Oh, so you think I’m not making any progress?”

“No, I’m just saying, the future is uncertain—”

“Which means there’s also a future where I get better—”

“And I’m just worried you’ll—”

“ _ Why can’t you just have faith in me?!” _

Peter froze. 

“It’s like you don’t even think I can get through this.”

“I’m not saying that,” Peter stated.

“It sure feels like you are,” Harley huffed.

“Hey. You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Then what  _ do  _ you mean?”

“I just mean, I don’t, I just…” He took a breath. “Things take time. And we don’t know how much time it’s gonna take.”

“I know that, but worst case scenario, we just play it by ear that day and go or don’t go. You don’t have to plan for me to fail because then I will.”

Peter sighed. “I know. I… I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

Peter gave a weary smile. “So, prom?”

Harley nodded. “Prom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to yell at me, my Tumblr is [official-impravidus](official-impravidus.tumblr.com)


	8. But First I Need Some Happy Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recommend you go back and read chapter five, "Life Is Terribly Hard (when your life's a facade)," to best understand this chapter.

MARCH

1

He didn’t mean to go back to that alleyway. He never wanted to go back to that alleyway for the rest of his life if he could help it, but there was a scream, and Spider-Man could not stand idly by.

The man reminded him of Harley. His blonde curls and big blue eyes and the gunshot wound straight through his chest… wait, _gunshot wound?_

“Hey. I’m here. Can you tell me your name?” He asked the man.

“Harvey,” the man slurred.

 _Great. Of course._ “I’m gonna take you to the hospital, alright? But I gotta close your wound first. You’ll feel a little pressure, but it shouldn’t sting.” He shot one of his special medical webs at the wound. “Do you think you can walk, or should I carry you?”

“I feel funny,” Harvey said.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Peter asked, helping him up.

“I was just… I was at the bar. And this nice guy bought me a drink, but then I started to get really tired so he said he’d walk me home. But then he started trying to take off my pants and I didn’t want that, so I tried to fight back, and he, he, he got frustrated. And then he…”

“He shot you.”

“Mhm.”

“Jesus,” Peter muttered. “C’mon. Let me know if you feel any discomfort. I’m gonna pick you up now.”

As they swung quickly to the hospital, Peter urged him to keep talking.

“I’ve met you before, Spider-Man. When you stopped a bank heist, I was working behind the counter. You saved my life.”

“Well, I’m gonna save your life again.”

“That’s nice.” He took a gulp of thick saliva. “I don’t want to work at a bank, but it pays well. I’ve always wanted to be a painter.”

“You can still be a painter.”

“It doesn’t pay well, and it’s a competitive field with no reward.”

“You could always commission your art,” Peter suggested.

“I dunno. It’s not the same as creating for the sake of creation. Monetizing my passion doesn’t feel right.” He sighed. “I’m gettin’ real tired, Spider-Man.”

“We’re almost there, Harvey. You gotta hold on.”

“I dunno if I can.”

Peter swung faster. When he ran into the ER, they took Harvey, and he disappeared in a crowd of doctors.

Peter knew he couldn’t go back with him, but he heard them shocking his heart. He heard them panic. He heard them call the time of death.

Peter had to get out of there. He needed to get far far away.

Bursting into Harley’s room, he pulled off his mask and cried in Harley’s arms.

“I can’t lose you again,” Peter choked out, burying his face in the crook of Harley’s neck.

“You won’t. I’m here.” Harley pressed a gentle kiss on Peter’s curls, sending a shiver down his spine

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I know you’re…” _I shouldn’t be letting my emotions take over when you’re so unstable._ “Are you okay?”

“Are _you_ okay?”

“I am now. I… am,” he said shakily.

“Are you sure?” Harley asked, not fully believing him.

“Yeah. I’m sure. Really,” Peter said, not very convincingly.

“Okay. If you’re not, you can tell me.”

“I know.” _No, I can’t._

“I love you.”

He hesitated. “I love you too.”

2

The buzz of the razor, and the vibrating whir against his bare neck sent chills down his spine. The metallic shing of the scissors felt like icicles dragging down his skin, cutting through his flesh with tiny scrapes.

He sat through it, though. He didn’t tap out. He had to be strong.

Tears pooled in his eyes.

He didn’t tap out. He had to be strong.

His finger nails cut into his wrists. 

He didn’t tap out. He had to be strong.

And he got his haircut. And his hair looked good. 

He didn’t tap out. He was strong.

3

Harley stared at the door, numbers bouncing around his mind.

Simple concepts were escaping him. He couldn’t think. “Three… two... three… two... three… three…”

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked.

“I can’t remember,” Harley said, still in a trance.

“Remember what?”

“Three… two… three… three…”

Peter got up, looking at his page. “Three times two?”

“Three… three…”

“It’s six,” Peter said.

Harley looked up. “Six?”

“Three times two is six.”

He nodded. “Six.”

Peter frowned. “H-Honey, if you…” He trailed off as he saw Harley stare at the door again, pencil falling from his limp hand.

 _It’s one of those days._

Peter took his tray covered in papers off of his lap, and set them on the bedside table.

“Four… eight… six… two… four… eight… eight…”

Peter stared sadly at Harley, and took a seat, trying to focus as he desperately attempted to block out Harley’s voice from his mind.

4

“Sometimes I miss it.”

Tony’s looked up. “Miss what? Drinking?” For a moment, Tony worried there was something wrong with Harley’s memory.

“No. I mean, I miss… I miss being there. I don’t know, I just… when I was there, things made sense. I had my routine and that made sense.”

“That routine also involved daily torture sessions,” Tony said flatly.

“But it made sense.”

“How did it make sense?” Tony asked, not fathoming his sentiments at all.

“Because I knew what to expect. There was a time to eat. There was a time to sleep. There was a time to…” he trailed off. “And it was reliable. It made sense. And now that I’m back there’s so many new variables. New obstacles. New… routine. New way of living. And there’s so many things to catch up on and keep up with and I… I miss the simplicity.”

“That’s Stockholm syndrome, bud.”

“Is it bad that I miss it?” 

Tony hesitated. “It’s okay to miss it. But know that it’s not as nice as you remember it. And that you’re better off here.”

“I think I’m better off nowhere.”

“And what does that mean?” Tony asked, heart dropping.

“Nothing.”

“What does that mean?” He repeated.

“ _Nothing._ I meant nothing. I just meant… I just meant nothing.”

Tony ran his hand over his mouth. “We have to get you back to Dr. Carlyle.”

“I don’t need to go to Dr. Carlyle!” Harley shouted.

“She can help you!”

“I don’t want her help. I don’t want any help. I don’t _need_ help.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I’m an adult. You can’t force me to do anything.”

“I can if I think you’re a danger to yourself,” Tony said firmly.

Harley sat back. “What?”

“If evaluation proves that you are a danger to yourself, you will _have_ to seek treatment.”

“You’re gonna send me away? Like I’m crazy?”

“I will if you don’t go to therapy,” Tony threatened.

“Fuck you,” Harley spat.

“I’m not going to let you self-destruct. You may not like me right now, but I’m doing all of this for _you_.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m gonna go call Dr. Carlyle. She will be seeing you by the end of the week.”

5

“Alright. It’s okay. You’ve got it.”

“Just give me a second!”

“C’mon. You’ve got it. Just one more step.”

Harley collapsed on the ground, Tony catching him as he descended down.

“I can’t do this. I-I, I can’t. I’m not ready,” Harley said.

“It takes time,” the physical therapist said.

“I’m not ready,” Harley repeated.

“You made a lot of progress. You were standing by yourself and you almost walked a full yard,” she said.

“Oh, great. A whole yard,” Harley said sarcastically.

“That’s a good thing. That’s progress.”

“Well, it doesn’t feel like it!’ Harley snapped.

Tony sat down on the floor with Harley. “You said you wanted to try and walk today. But, if you’re not ready yet, it’s okay.”

“No. I just, I need a second, okay? I can do it.”

“Here, let me help you up…”

“ _Don’t touch me!”_ Harley took a shaky breath. “Just let me try on my own. I can do this." He bit back tears. “I can do this.”

6

Abby held her knees to her chest, head buried in her arms as she cried in her bedroom.

Peter rushed to her, sitting next to her. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

“He doesn’t love me anymore!”

“No, of course he does. Harley still loves you.”

“No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t.”

“Why do you think that?” Peter asked.

“He can’t even _look_ at me. He doesn’t talk to me or smile or ask me about my day and he doesn’t care and he doesn’t, he doesn’t say it.”

“He needs time,” Peter said, a mantra he seemed to be saying often.

“He’s had time! I miss him. I miss my brother. I hate this new him.”

“You don’t mean that,” Peter said with a frown.

“Yes I do! I hate this new Harley! He stinks! He’s mean and he hurts my feelings and I hate him!”

Peter pursed his lips, and pulled her into a tight hug. “I know it stinks that this new Harley isn’t like the old Harley, but we have to help him, because new or old, he’s still Harley, and he needs us. He’s gonna need some more time, but he will be able to show you how much he loves you because I know deep down in his heart, he still loves you very much.”

“I love you, Peter.”

“I love you too. Forever and always.”

7

It was a stupid mistake, and it lead to a minor injury and an evac from Daredevil. No doubt the man has noticed his shift in attitude towards crime, becoming more like him and Deadpool.

“Follow the lead, you might lose them.” Peter gritted out, not really wanting the lecture from Matt right now, even if the man hasn’t said anything, and it wasn’t really Matt’s style to lecture him, especially when it was hypocritical.

Matt gripped him tighter.

Peter rolled his eyes. “We’re at Claire’s. Don’t worry. I can let myself in.”

Matt gave him a warning look before letting him go and disappearing into the night.

Peter sighed and contemplated whether he should go in or not. He decided it wasn’t worth the third degree from Karen and also he didn’t want to stumble in from patrol and have Harley freak out. Then console him, then be too tired to actually treat his injuries then wake up with a mild fever because of infection then go to school feeling like crap and then getting harped on by Ned and MJ for not taking care of himself and... yeah, it just wasn’t worth that.

“You gonna come in or bleed out on my window all night?” asked a stern, tired voice from inside. Claire was sitting in the dark, med kit all ready on the table and watching him while sipping some tea from a mug. He noticed a mug was on the table for him as well.

“Luke out today?” Peter asked as he gingerly slipped in, mindful of his side where the bullet grazed him. He sat down on the chair next to her and she went down to inspect it.

“Yeah, he’s hitting some mystic artifact thing up with Danny,” she said.

Peter smiled tentatively, mind going off to wander. They were having pizza not even three hours ago and now he has a bullet graze and talking about mystic artifacts? His life was so goddamn weird, but it was his normal. Going out to stop drug dealers in spandex, coming home to his traumatized partner and his sister that he was parenting, watching MLP an hour before you get shot with Hawaiian pizza. The list went on and on, his double life had become a triple life then a quadruple life. Spider-Man, Harley’s therapist, Abby’s guardian, perfect Peter Parker… but where did Peter go? He had no time to just be him and he didn’t know how to handle Harley. Yeah, sure, he was helping when he got triggered and Harley wasn’t getting worse. But he wasn’t getting better either.

“You’re thinking too loud kid.” Claire chastised, her way of saying Peter was stressing himself out and he should really stop if he didn’t want to be in pain. 

“Yeah, sorry.” Peter breathed in and out a few times and then looked down at Claire. “Hey Claire, could I ask you something?”

“You just did,” she said blandly, bringing out a needle for stitches.

“Yeah,” he huffed. “So uhm, you’ve seen like trauma patients, like after a kidnapping or being held hostage at gunpoint or something, right?”

“So have you. You save ‘em. It’s what y’all do right?” she grunted.

Peter sighed. “Yeah, but usually they’re in shock or are hyped up on adrenaline. I dunno,” he mumbled. “I meant like… long term effects. How do you deal with that?”

Claire looked up from her last stitch and studied his face as he tried to avoid her gaze. “This about that Keener kid? The one you live with?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. They usually had a rule, no personal life, no vigilante life, just tell her the injury and no other details. That way she’s safe and no one has to have any strings attached. He felt bad for breaking the rule but...

“Not the one I live with, her older brother,” he said. She cut off the string a little too roughly causing him to wince. “I know, I know. I just need a little advice. He’s not getting worse, but he’s not getting better. And it’s been nearly a month, but he’s still so… so…”

“Out of it?” Claire asked and sighed as she took out some bandages. Peter only nodded. “Space kiddo, space and therapy.”

“But I’ve been giving him space, and he doesn’t want therapy.” Peter groaned.

“You’re getting impatient.” Claire said coming to the end of her wrapping and starting to put everything away. “It takes time, most traumatized patients don’t show results for at least 6 weeks.” she says in her blunt way that he just sometimes needed to hear. They all did.

“Yeah.” He sighed as he slumped with his tea in hand and she took her own mug and sat down.

“Just help him through the triggers, be there when he needs it, give him space until he asks for help.” Claire said, oddly soft. “This is all normal. Just be patient.”

Peter looks into the black expanse of his mug. “How much longer?” he whispered softly to himself. He took a sip, the liquid burning his throat. “How much longer?”

  
  


8

The pews were packed in the local catholic church that Abby and Peter had been frequenting, so the three settled in the very back.

Church was boring. It had always been boring. But Abby felt deeply for this church stuff, so Harley did the hymns and he did the prayers and he went to his knees, though it shot pain through his back, and he listened to the priest drone on about the same stories he had once praised for years.

But the words meant nothing to him. He felt no hope. He felt no reassurance or guidance or awakening. He felt betrayed by the words of sanctuary and prosperity. He felt betrayed that he had experienced living hell, and yet he was being promised clarity.

He didn’t like the church. It was stuffy and crowded and though it was quiet, it was too busy. As mass came to a close, the room erupted into sound. An uproar of chatter sent him staggering back, the sheer contrast from the serene silence, overwhelming him.

Crowds were heading towards them. Technically, they were heading to the doors, but they sat right in front of them, and Harley felt as though they were all coming for him.

Peter tried to guide Harley into his wheelchair, but he stood stiffly.

“C’mon. Let’s get out of here, honey. Okay? We can go.”

At least the people were courteous enough to walk around the wide eyed man in the wheelchair. 

Somehow, Peter coerced Harley into the wheelchair, and pushed him through the crowds, holding Abby’s hand with the other.

Abby didn’t hide her disappointment when Peter told her that they couldn’t get donuts today, and had to head back to the tower.

Harley gripped the armrest, and stared at his lap.

And Peter? He was just trying to get by. That’s all he could do.

9

The meat and three was a breath of fresh air to Harley. Though he had been hesitant to branch away from his fruit, the familiar (though slightly charred taste) was gladly welcomed.

However, as he sunk his teeth into the fingerling potatoes, his hand went slack, his fork dropping with a clatter, making his eyes widen even further.

“Oops. I’ll get that for you,” Peter said, but as he heard Harley’s quickening heartbeat, he stopped. “Hey. What’s wrong? What do you need?”

Harley didn’t respond, instead just staring at the door in silence.

“Honey. What’s wrong?”

Harley looked down at his plate, eyes blank and empty, head tilted slightly as he inspected the potatoes. 

“Please, say something.”

“Oh, hi Peter.”

Peter smiled. “Hi.”

There was a flash of shock on Harley’s face. “You’re… finally talking to me.”

“What?” Peter asked, confused.

“It’s nice to hear your voice again. It’s been so long.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“You have to go soon, don’t you? You always do.”

“I always what?” Peter asked, breathing unsteady.

“Leave. Because that’s what you always do. Leave.”

Peter’s breath hitched. “Harley, what are you…”

Harley’s eyes came back to life as he looked around the room. He looked to Peter with worry. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t know what was wrong. “Nothing. How about I take your plate and get you some dessert?”

10

“You know, I was just talking with Harley today,” Pepper told Peter as they both rummaged through the medbay fridge.

“Really? Anything interesting?” 

“He’s having some trouble adjusting. I think he’s still figuring out his place while he’s back,” Pepper said.

“I don’t know what to do to help him reacclimate. I’ve been trying to make him comfortable and respect his boundaries but it’s like every step we take, he takes two steps back. No. Actually, it’s more like every step we take, he falls down the steps, and we start from the beginning all over again.”

“Have you talked to him about how you’re feeling?” Pepper asked.

“How can I? It’s not about me! It’s about him. Him getting better. Him moving on.”

“It can be about you too. He cares about how you feel.”

“I can’t just dump all my baggage on him,” Peter said. “I can’t do that.”

“You also can’t bottle this all up.”

Peter picked up his quinoa salad. “Yes I can, and that’s exactly what I have to do.” He grabbed a bowl of fruit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go take this to Harley.”

11

It was humiliating being praised for simply raising his arms above his head. It was such a mundane task and yet Peter was treating it like he just parted the red sea. 

Was that really all he was worth? Was he so pathetic that something so simple was such an overwhelming success.

Peter’s warm pride gave a fuzzy feeling in his chest, but knowing the cause made him feel infantile. 

_Pathetic. That’s all you are._

12

“So, you and Harley,” Peter said, breaking the silence as he and Tony tinkered in his lab.

“What about us?”

“I just didn’t realize you were working on projects together. Really keeping him busy, huh?”

Tony frowned. “Why’d you say it like that?”

“I’m not saying it like anything.”

Tony set his screwdriver. “Yes. You are.” He turned to face Peter. “What’s wrong?”

“I mean, I dunno, how does he feel doing all this planning for something he can’t even build?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he has his metal on metal triggers. He won’t be able to be in the lab and make it. Isn’t it giving him some false hope?” Peter didn’t look up from his suit.

“We have sound dampeners.”

“That’s not very safe,” Peter stated.

“Why are you being like this? It’s a good thing that Harley has something to devote his time to rather than homework and recovery. This is a good thing. Why aren’t you happy for him?”

“I am! I’m totally… I’m happy for him. I’m just thinking that it’s unfair to get him so involved in something that he might not be able to finish.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Tony asked, crossing his arms.

“It’s just something he may not get back when he gets back to his life again. Maybe he’s not ready to get back into the lab or prioritize his work. I mean, it’s taxing, putting his dedication into something that could take years to complete. Who knows if he will commit to someone that long? If he’s even capable of doing that anymore.”

“You mean something?”

Peter looked up. “What?”

“You said ‘commit to someone.’”

“No I didn’t,” Peter denied.

“This isn’t about his prosthesis, is it?”

“Of course it’s not!” Peter snapped. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Thinking that things could… hoping that he might actually… that we could… but it’s not like that anymore. It’s not that simple. Nothing is that simple. And now he’s… he’s not him anymore and now that he’s not him anymore, maybe this him isn’t meant to be with this me.”

“Pete…”

“And that’s just like me, right? Being selfish and worrying about my romantic endeavors with a guy who is battling crippling PTSD instead of just being there for him. I’m supposed to be a hero. I’m supposed to be selfless. Always putting the little guy before me. But Harley isn’t just the little guy. He was my world.”

“Was?”

“Is. I mean, was. I mean, I don’t know. I don’t know! I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel!”

“You don’t have to know how to feel any way.”

“Yes. I do,” Peter said firmly. “Because I have to be okay because Harley can’t be okay right now.”

“It’s okay not to be okay,” Tony said.

Peter took a shaky breath. “I’m not okay, Mr. Stark. I’m not okay.”

Tony hesitantly pulled him into a hug. “That’s okay.”

“How can I be okay?” Peter asked with a wet sob.

“I don’t know, kid. I don’t know.”

13

“She loves you,” Peter had told Harley.

“I know. I love her too,” he had responded. 

It wasn’t _“I_ love you.” It wasn’t “I love _you_.” And something in that pained Peter, but he knew that he too couldn’t say it again either.

They would never say it, but they were drifting. Harley was drifting.

It was selfish to feel this way. At least, that was what Peter had convinced himself. It was selfish to be yearning for his love, when Harley didn’t have the energy to make enough love for himself. He didn’t have enough energy to do anything, let alone put his energy into loving Peter. 

Peter wasn’t losing his love, but he was losing his faith in their love.

14

Harley thrashed violently, knocking over his bedside lamp.

Peter jolted awake, mind racing. “H… Honey? What’s wrong?”

Harley continued to roll, body jerking and contorting.

Peter ran to the sleeping teen, and tried to calm him with his touch, but Harley sent a harsh, full force punch to Peter’s eye, sending him stumbling back into his chair.

The next morning, Peter blamed his black eye on patrol.

The next morning, Harley didn’t remember a thing.

The next morning, they pretended everything was fine.

15

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it slow?” 

Harley shook his head. “No, I want to go school. I’m ready.”

“It’s just, the last time you were in a crowd you…”

“I’m gonna be fine. Seriously.”

“We can get you accommodations. Like sound dampeners or…”

“Peter,” Harley interjected. “Do you not trust me?”

“I… of course I trust you,” Peter said.

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Let’s not do this again,” Peter said, getting up.

“Do what again? Skim over your trust issues with me?”

“I don’t have _trust issues_ with you.”

“Then what is _this_?” Harley pushed.

 _“This_ is me wanting the best for you,” Peter said.

Harley pursed his lips. “Well what’s best for me is getting back into the real world without a crutch.

“Accommodations wouldn’t be crutches.”

“It’s a fucking synonym, Peter! Those mean the same thing!”

“No, they don’t!” Peter took a shaky breath. “I don’t think you’re ready.”

“The fuck I am.”

“You’re clearly not ready to get back out into the real world.”

“You can’t just keep me locked up forever,” Harley said, arms crossed.

“Well, you can’t take everything like it’s an attack.”

Harley stopped. “I don’t take everything like it’s an attack.”

“Yes, you do. And if you’re going to do that every time someone pushes the wrong button, then you’re not ready to get back out there.”

“I’m not going to,” Harley said.

“You just did!” 

Harley was silent for a moment. “I’m not going to.”

Peter chewed at the inside of his mouth. “Well, it’s not my decision to make, so if you think you’re ready and Dr. Cho thinks you’re ready and Mr. Stark… then I, I can do anything about it.” He looked at his watch. “It’s time for dinner. I gotta get something ready for Abby.”

“Peter…”

But he was out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to yell at me, my Tumblr is [official-impravidus](https://official-impravidus.tumblr.com/)


	9. You Learn To Live Without

Harley’s head was spinning as he entered the crowded halls of Midtown High. The words of hundreds of conversations swirled in his mind, his muscles tensing as lockers slammed shut. Shoulders bumped into his, hands brushing his arms and torso. His temples throbbed as the warning bell sounded, the ring forcing his body rigid and alert. He jumped out of his skin when his English teacher smiled sweetly and said, “Mr. Keener. Nice to have you back.”

He couldn’t breathe. Each sharp gasp of air felt like razors sliding down his esophagus. His hands trembled, unable to catch him as he fell to the ground, curling in on himself, gripping his knees tight to his chest.

“Hey,” Peter called, alarmed. “It’s alright. It’s okay.” He kneeled down next to him. “May I touch you?”

“I need to get out of here. I need to leave. I have to…”

“We’re gonna go, okay? Can you get up?”

Harley shook his head, his jaw locked as he bit his lip until it bled. 

“C’mon. I’ve got you.” Peter was extremely grateful that he could pull Harley’s full body weight on his own. He snaked his arm around his waist, walking slowly and careful, supporting him on his side. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”

“Okay. Okay okay okay.”

“I’m here. I’m not gonna go anywhere, alright? I’m here.”

The sound was dimming, but the sun was blinding. Peter took notice of his squinted eyes and slipped his glasses onto his nose, tapping the side twice to convert to sunglasses.

“I can’t do this. I can’t go back there. I can’t… I can’t…”

“You don’t have to, okay? We’re gonna go back to the apartment and you can just relax, okay?” Peter said.

“Okay.”

It was a silent walk. By the first block away from the school, Harley could walk on his own, though his shoulders slumped and his hands were held tight as he avoided the touch of anyone but Peter. He leaned instinctually into Peter, feeling comfort in the pressure of his arm pressed against his. 

Harley’s words from the night before were still heavy on Peter’s heart, but he had to push them aside. There was no use in grudges when Harley was like this. He had to be there for Harley. He had to be there for him. That’s what he kept telling himself.  _ Do it for him. _

When they were in the apartment, Harley floated to the couch and stared at the black screen.

“Do you want to watch TV?” Peter asked.

Harley couldn’t respond. He couldn’t move. He liked the screen. Blank. Clean. It helped him settle the static growing in his mind. It helped him disappear. 

When he was five, his mom and dad took him to the lake to ice skate. It was one of the coldest Tennessee winters and the lake was crowded with all his friends and neighbors. It was cold. He had to wear an ugly orange and yellow striped scarf and his mother’s fuzzy snow hat with a pom pom to keep him warm.

It was cold. His nose was a neon pink and he had the sniffles, but he didn’t want to stop. He did twirls and spins and he could even jump. He shouldn’t have jumped.

The ice cracked beneath him, plunging him into the coursing depths of the freezing lake. It was cold. 

He pounded on the ice above him, wasting air as he screamed in fear. His tears faded away into the miles of water surrounding him. He was cold. It was cold.

At some point, he stopped struggling, and succumbed to his fate. The water in his nose was sharp. The stream that jerked his body around was rough. The water was cold. It was cold.

He was cold now. He felt trapped. He felt the thrashing current jostling him around. But he could not move. He couldn’t. 

_ It’s cold. But it’s getting warmer. _

As he felt the heat again, he started to feel again. He could feel the seething heat that engulfed his heart, burning against his chest. He felt the char in his muscles, straining his every move and filling him with a dull, constant pain. He felt the blast of lasers that pointed down on him through Peter’s teary gaze. 

“Why are you crying?” Harley asked.

That made Peter cry harder.

“Hey, don’t cry. It’s alright,” Harely said softly.

“Y-you were unresponsive. It’s like you couldn’t even hear me. I thought you… that something had… something in your brain that we didn’t see… and I… I…” 

Harley pulled him into a tight hug, rubbing circles in his back. “I’m here.”

“You weren’t.”

“I am.”

Peter silently sobbed into Harley’s chest, heaving big gasps of air as he tried to steady himself. 

“I didn’t know what was wrong. You’ve never…”

“I’m okay.”

Peter collected himself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

“I just I’m supposed to…” he cut himself off.  _ I’m supposed to be the strong one. I’m supposed to hold it together. I’m supposed to be here. _

“Don’t you have that big Spanish test third block?” Harley asked.

“Yeah, I do but…” 

“No buts. I don’t want you missing any more school than you already have. Especially for me.”

“But…”

“Nope. Nu-uh. I am going to be fine. I know how to stay busy.  _ You _ have a life outside of me that you need to attend to.”

Peter hesitated. “You’re gonna be fine on your own?”

“I’ve done it before. I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine?” Peter repeated.

“I will be fine.”

Peter slowly nodded. “Okay. Okay, I’ll go. Just… text me if even the smallest thing is wrong or if you’re feeling anything or thinking anything or…”

“I will.”

“Okay. Okay. I… I guess I’ll,” he wiped his eyes. “I guess I’ll get going.”

“I love you,” Harley said with a soft gaze.

Peter paused. “I’ll see you later.”

As the door shut behind him, Harley laid his head on the back of the couch.  _ What do I do now? _

Harley was sick of sitting. Of resting. He needed to do  _ something. _ Anything.

He first tried to bake. Something to brighten up Abby and Peter’s days when they come home, right? 

It was fine. It started fine. He was gathering the ingredients, setting them on the counter as he prepared a sand art brownie, when his body went rigid in fear as he placed the measuring cups on the table.

_ Clatter. Clink. Clank.  _

He took a shaky breath and grabbed a towel with his trembling hands, laying it onto the counter and placing the cups onto the soft fabric with an inaudible plop.

A soft smile returned to his lips as he went back to his recipe. “One cup of flour,” he said in a slight sing-song. His arm tensed as the back of the knife met the measuring cup as he leveled.

_ Clink. Screech. _

He shook off the feeling once more, grabbing a rubber spatula and continuing on.

Once all of the dry ingredients were in the bowl, he began to stir, but tensed tighter and tighter as the wooden spoon met the metal bowl.

_ Ding. Clink. Ding. Clink. _

With trembling hands, he took the bowl and dumped its contents into the trash, and silently cleaned the kitchen.

The next thing he tried was tinkering. He loved tinkering! It got him focused and it was mindless activity.

But, the screech and clatter of nuts and bolts against wrenches and screwdrivers was grueling, the sound like needles dragged down his back (and he knew what that felt like). It sent a chill up his spine, sending his body into a fearful shock that he could not escape. It was like ants skittering up his bare skin, crawling into his ear canals and up his nose, blocking his throat until he was choking, begging for air.

He threw the tools onto the table, flinching at the noise he made, and went to his bed, opening his book and running his fingers over his most often visited page. It brought him comfort. Too much comfort for what it represented.

In the room, he turned to this page to bring him back to Earth. To keep his memory of Peter. To remind himself that there was hope. But, as he relied so heavily on this page, he only associated it with pain. It had become less of a guide to sanity, it had become a crutch, forever reminding him of what he had lost and what he had once been. It was a way to never let go of what he had been through. It was a way to deny his progress, and to resort back to his unhealthy coping.

But he didn’t think of it that way. He couldn’t. The page was barely legible, caked in his own blood and tears, but the image still brought him some sort of relief. It shouldn’t. He has the real Peter. The real Peter got him out. But sometimes it felt like he was still in the room, staring at the bricks, waking up from a dream of a world outside of the room.

Sometimes it felt like this was just a dream, and one day, he would wake up in the room again.

When he closed his eyes, he’s with  _ her _ and he’s in the room and he’s feeling the pain again, and he didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to sleep ever again because he feared that he may go into that world and never escape it again. 

He would never escape her. Her chokehold that she held him left him helpless and weak. He knew her reign hadn’t ended. He knew that she wouldn’t give up that easily. And now he was panicking.

_ Breathe. Listen to my heartbeat. Breathe with me. It’s gonna be okay. You’re okay. It’s okay. _

Harley relaxed.  _ Peter.  _ As he repeated Peter’s voice in his mind, he found himself drifting to sleep.

When he was five, his mom and dad took him to the lake to ice skate. It was cold. When he fell into the water, when he drowned, he thought that that would be the end of his life.

When Harley was in the room, every day, he had hoped it would be the end of his life.

_ She  _ grinned maliciously at him, taunting him.  _ She _ ripped him apart, piece by piece, stripping his confidence and pride like crusted paint, chipping off the walls of his facade of strength.  _ She  _ sent unbearable pain coursing through his veins.  _ She  _ laughed as he screamed in agony.  _ She  _ smiled as she took everything that had made him whole, and threw it aside like a crumpled wrapper of gum.

Harley never chewed gum. It hurt his jaw too much. He tended to clench his jaw when he focused too hard and grind his teeth when he slept. It didn’t wear down his teeth, though. He wore retainers at night. He had had braces when he was in middle school and had kept a perfect record of wearing his retainers every night. When he started drinking, he missed a lot of nights. His inebriated self didn’t care much for self care, and it wasn’t the most attractive thing to have on when you were trying to woo someone into bed with you.

His orthodontist made him start wearing his retainer all day and night since his teeth were shifting. In the heat of the moment, a study session turned something more, he had to stop before moving to third base with a guy, worrying that the bodily fluids would get stuck in his retainer and he would have to wash it out after. It ruined the mood.

Harley always had a way of ruining the mood. When he was little, he tended to be a “Debby Downer.” That’s the nice way of saying a pessimistic buzzkill. He didn’t mean to, but he was too literal to understand how good things can ever come from all the bad. At a family Thanksgiving, his neighbor’s daughter announced that she was dropping out of college because she was pregnant and getting married. Harley didn’t get why she would throw away her education for something like that. Why couldn’t she have both? So he asked, and all the adults, uncomfortable from the tension growing in the room, were finally prompted by the question they too had.

Harley used to think that one day he would settle down with a nice girl. That’s what you’d look forward to when you’re a kid in the south. Perfect, white picket fence, nuclear family. He always wanted to be normal, but normality continued to stray away from his life. 

It started with Lucas Drenigan. He wore basketball shorts and tank tops, and had soft red hair that he kept in a swoop, and he had the brightest green eyes Harley had ever seen. Lucas was athletic, something that Harley was not, something that made being normal even harder. Lucas was brash and arrogant and hot-headed. But he also had a big secret.

For some reason Harley would never understand, Lucas was friends with him. He opened his walls and showed his sensitivity and shared his secrets. He also shared his feelings with Harley. He also shared many stolen kisses in Harley’s garage.

They were young. They were dumb. They lived in homophobic Tennessee. And when Harley wanted more — a relationship, a title — that Lucas couldn’t give, they had to break it off.

Lucas spilled all of Harley’s hidden insecurities. He shared his secret, one that was not his to tell, and ruined his reputation.

Reputation. Harley was the master of ruined reputation. When he came to Queens and built himself the womanizer flirt persona, he tried to distance himself from his past. He wasted hours with countless strangers when what he truly wanted was someone to take the time to know him. To love him.

And now he had someone to love him. To love. He had someone who didn’t care for his reputation. For his mask. He had someone who wanted him. He had someone who wanted Harley Keener.

He didn’t want Harley Keener. He didn’t want to be him. He didn’t want his baggage and his trauma and his pressures. He didn’t want to fear the world and everything behind it. He didn’t want to fear failure and rejection and the daunting oblivion that he could never see past. He didn’t want to fear himself and everything inside his mind that was demanding to be released.

_ She _ was in his mind, demanding to be released.

_ She _ ’s coming.  _ She’ _ s coming.  _ She’s coming. _

Harley shot up, heart pounding as he took a sharp gasp of air. Safe.  _ Safe. _

He got up from bed, following the sound of bubbling water. 

“Oh, you’re up. I didn’t want to wake you. I was just making some spaghetti and meatballs,” Peter said. “Do anything today?”

Harley shook his head. “Tried to stay busy but I couldn’t find anything to get my mind off of everything.”

“Well at least you got some rest,” Peter said.

“Where’s Abby?” 

“She’s in her room getting some homework done,” Peter responded. “Do you wanna help me roll these meatballs?” 

“I… sure.” Harley went to the sink to wash his hands. “How long was I out?”

“Well, I don’t know when you fell asleep, but it’s half past five now.”

“Six hours. I haven’t slept that long in a while.”

“That’s good,” Peter said. “Progress.”

“What do you do to clear your head?” Harley blurted out.

“Well I… I tinker.”

“What else?” he asked, desperate for clarity.

“Well, it always clears my head when I go out and swing. The fresh air and the sound of the city always calms me down.”

Harley nodded, cogs turning in his mind. “Oh. Okay.”

“Fresh air is good for you. You could use some.”

Harley nodded again. “Yeah. I could.” 

It’s cold. But it’s getting warmer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based on my personal experience with dissociation and being catatonic. My experience does not represent everyone, but I hope that the way I described it is in a way that people can relate.
> 
> If you want to yell at me, my Tumblr is [official-impravidus](https://official-impravidus.tumblr.com/)


	10. It's Too Late To Turn Back Now

It was exhilarating. The feeling of soaring through the sky, feeling nothing but the air beneath his feet was utterly euphoric. There was nothing but him and the sky and the rush of the wind passed his helmet.

He had fun with it, twirling and twisting and spinning in the air, making figure eights and loops, the magenta of his suit shining against the moonlight. 

He could finally breathe. It was like the tar that had been coursing through his veins was filtering out, the smog he had been heaving through clearing. 

As he returned to the ground, he was suddenly hyper-aware of his surroundings. Alleyway.  _ Alleyway, alleyway, alleyway.  _ He felt so vulnerable, so unsafe, despite being protected by titanium alloy.

A voice broke him out from the trap of his mind.

“Oh my God, Iron Man! Please, please help me. I’m being followed. I don’t know what to do.”

“You… I’m not…”

“You bitch!” A new voice cut in. 

Harley’s head whipped to face the man. Gruff, disheveled, and seething with anger. “Oh, got a little protector, huh? Well it’s not gonna be that easy.”

Before he could do anything, there was a gun being pointed straight for his heart. He froze, the shot reverberating against the close brick walls, a harsh clink against his chest.

To his surprise, it wasn’t the gunshot that had been the final straw, but instead, the metal hitting metal right where he could hear it.

His vision blurred, his knees going wobbly and weak.

Commotion happened around him. Punches thrown. Webs shot. Screaming. So much screaming. And then… Peter?

“Harley. Harley, c’mon. I’m here. Come back.”

He could see again. He could… feel again. Peter?

“What are you… I don’t understand why are you… what are you doing out here? In, in, in  _ that _ ?”

“You said you go out to clear your head,” Harley said.

“I didn’t, I didn’t mean… Jesus, I meant like go on a walk! Or go to the roof for some air. I didn’t mean to equip your Iron suit that is specifically made to protect you for  _ emergencies _ and get yourself shot in an alleyway!”

“I’m sorry.”

“I mean, shit. What am I supposed to… why would you…”

I’m sorry.”

They were silent for a while, Harley still trying to come back from his episode.

“We should get home. You shouldn’t be out here,” Peter said, voice low.

“I just wanted to feel different. I wanted to feel again.”

“I know you did, but this wasn’t the way to do it,” Peter responded exasperatedly.

“Then how?!” Harley snapped harshly. “How am I supposed to feel? Because for months, I’ve been floating in oblivion and it’s like the second I get something close to feeling real again, it disappears. It’s like I’m living my life but I’m not  _ living _ , and coming out tonight, going out in the suit, I finally  _ felt.  _ I finally didn’t feel like the shell of a person that I can’t be anymore.”

“We should really get back to the apartment…”

“I don’t need taking care of!”

“But you do!” Peter exclaimed, his patience finally running thin. “You’re a ticking time bomb. It’s like one wrong word or sound or movement and then you’re back there and it’s like I can’t even breathe because you barely even sleep and there’s no point where I can just relax and be myself because I’m afraid that if I put my guard down, I’m going to hurt you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Harley said softly.

“But I already have!”

“You’ve always said that,” he dismissed.

“It’s not like that anymore, and you know it. I can’t tinker around you, I can’t sleep when you’re awake, I can’t slide my chair too loudly, and God forbid I try to touch you, and I can’t even say your fucking name!”

“Well that’s not my fault.”

“But it is. I’ve tried my best to give you space and to avoid your triggers and adapt to your new life, but you won’t even go to therapy, and you don’t do the exercises that you’re given, and you don’t even try to face them! It’s like I’m doing everything I can to avoid them so you don’t have an episode, but then, so are you! You’re just avoiding and forgetting and you’re not doing anything to move on and make progress.”

“Well, it’s not like I can even work on my own because I’m constantly being coddled by you!” Harley raised his voice. “It’s absolutely suffocating. I’ve been in that bed for weeks and it’s like it’s I’m just trapped again. I don’t go anywhere, I don’t see anything new, I’m just laying there, doing nothing.”

“You’re doing nothing because you’re recovering. You can’t just expect that you can go into the world and face it all at once. You saw what happened when you went back to school. How the hell are you going to handle walking through the streets of New York on your own? Let alone going into public without me.”

“Oh, without you?” Harley asked with a sarcastic drawl. “Because I don’t think I get a second without you. I can’t even think without you  _ berating _ me with questions. It’s like I can’t even be alone.”

“Because you can’t! You say you’re being coddled, yet you don’t do a single thing to prove that you can handle being independent. If anything, every time we give you a chance to explore the world on your own, you have either have an episode or you do something stupid like go flying in an iron suit in the middle of the night!”

“ _ You’re  _ the one who said going out helps you clear your mind!”

“Because I’m Spider-Man! That was me telling you to go get some fresh air, not to get shot stopping a mugging!” He laughed, almost gasping for air. “I mean, Jesus. Like what the hell were you thinking? This is why I feel like I can’t take my eyes off of you, which is pretty freaking hard considering you sleep when I’m at school, so while I’m staying up all night with you, I’m running on empty at school and patrol.

“And I know you have your internal schedule from when you were there and your body works on a routine, but it’s been a month, and at some point you’re gonna have to finally separate yourself from it, and I need that to be sooner than later. I  _ need _ you to be present. I need you to sleep at normal times and eat more than a bowl of fruit at the same time every day and not stare at the door for hours because I know, I know you think there’s something behind that door, but you’re not there anymore. You’re not there and she’s not coming and you have to move on.”

“Move on?  _ Move on _ ? You want me to move on from the most traumatic experience of my life? I was there for nearly two month. I can’t move on. I can’t fucking live anymore! Do you know what that’s like?”

“We’ve all been through shit! Mr. Stark was kidnapped and tortured too for months, _and_ suffered radiation poisioning, and was almost murdered by the person who partially raised him and by one of his closest friends and watched his best friend almost die _and_ flew into a fucking wormhole and he made it.”

“But what about you? You’re all talk and you keep saying you get it, but you don’t.”

“Oh, I don’t get it? I don’t get  _ trauma _ ? Yeah because my parents dying in plane crash when I was six, my uncle getting murdered in front me, almost dying from a radioactive spider bite, holding a splitting ship together with my bare hands, and having to push an entire collapsed building off of myself to keep myself from suffocating hours before falling from a crashing plane isn’t traumatic at all. It’s not like I can’t stand the feeling of having weight on my back without getting flashbacks or struggle to go into pools because I can never forget the feeling of being trapped underwater.

“Don’t even try to tell me that I don’t understand trauma. Yes, I don’t understand  _ your _ trauma, but I know that it’s completely plausible to cope. I keep in touch with all the children I save and I’ve seen them make progress and they’ve made it. But you? You’re not trying. You have to at least try. But you’re not because you’re too scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Yes! You are! You’re scared of facing it head-on because you know that means you’re going to have to accept that what happened really happened and you won’t be able to live in oblivion anymore. Whenever you come out of your episodes, you always act as though nothing happened, but it happened, and it’s scary, and I’m scared. It doesn’t just affect you. It affects all of us. We have to walk on eggshells around you but we shouldn’t have to at this point.”

“Then don’t!” Harley snapped. “Don’t tip toe and treat me like I’m made of glass. Maybe then I can actually start to figure out what it’s like to be a normal person.”

“You can’t be a normal person anymore! You, you can’t just go back and be the person before this. You have to actually make an effort to change. You can’t even be that person anymore, but you can still be you. And I need  _ you _ back because I can’t stand spending another day staring at my phone waiting for Mr. Stark to tell me that you broke down or that you are catatonic or that you tried to do something that I could never move on from. I can’t keep pretending that everything is fine and is gonna be fine when  _ nothing _ is fine. It’s not gonna _ be  _ fine.”

Peter laughed in disbelief. “I can’t do this. Not tonight. I’m gonna go stay at Ned’s. Make sure Abby eats breakfast in the morning. She likes blueberries in her cereal. You would know that if you…” he cut himself off. “I hope you get better on your own.”

He swung away, leaving Harley standing alone, staring at the sky with a pit in his gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that brings book four to a close! Yes, I know, I am very very very sorry for the way I'm leaving it but I have good reason. 
> 
> Please have faith that things will get better because I promise you, they are going to get so so so much better for Peter and Harley. Things have to seem bleak before they can make progress and recover. Trust that what happens is for them and not to hurt them further. They are on the road to recovery and if you stick around, you are going to be rewarded with so much fluff your teeth are going to rot. 
> 
> A lot of you ask me if it's going to get better and how much longer you have to wait until things get better. What I say to that, is that progress takes time, and they are going to find it in their own way. But they will always come back to each other, stronger than they were before.
> 
> Please stick around. It'll be worth it.
> 
> I'll be posting the fifth book next Saturday. I hope to see you there. 
> 
> If you want to yell at me, my Tumblr is [official-impravidus](https://official-impravidus.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> also here is some media(for Starry):  
> Tumblr:@starrykitty013  
> Twitter: @StarryKitty013  
> Insta:@starrykitty013  
> I post about Spidey stuff and also mini updates on this and other fics I'm working on!! (like how the next chapter is progressing or just things I'm generally excited for you to see or even sneak peaks and ART) I try to check it frequently. DM me anytime!
> 
> See y'all next time :3


End file.
